


Hiraeth

by GoWithHappiness



Series: Mutually Assured Destruction [3]
Category: Divergent - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Police, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, I swear there will be some SST eventually guys, Mature tag for later chapters, Peter is a dick, Slow Burn, Tris isn't putting up with anyone's shit, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, also expect a little more Peter's trio because they deserve love and attention, bruise kink, just angsty UST for days, like seriously quite a bit of bruises being sexualized sorry, so much UST, tiny levels of Al bashing because it's kind of canon, what the hell are tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-01-04 02:56:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 56,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12160116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoWithHappiness/pseuds/GoWithHappiness
Summary: Hiraeth(n.) a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past--Tris is set to go through rigorous training in the academy, all while planning to take down the Bureau and retrieve the serum that will return her city's stolen memories. Top that off with Peter being his usual level of insufferable, and Eric showing her an unusual amount of scrutiny, and it's beginning to look like Tris is going to have a hard time not losing her mind.Then there's that manila envelope just burning a hole in the bottom of her duffel bag. Maybe it's finally time to see what Peter put in there.--Set in an alternate universe where the Bureau decides to use the memory serum for a mass reset before Dauntless and Erudite can ever set out to attack the Abnegation, choosing to erase the memory of the Edith Prior video from existence and redefine the experiments in a last ditch effort to bring about results.Updates will be sporadic, but hoping to keep up with this regularly.





	1. Metanoia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Metanoia  
> (n.) the journey of changing one’s mind, heart, self, or way of life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God guys it's been a whole year and I feel just awful that it's taken me this long to get back into writing, but I'm gonna ride this out and try to keep going until this project is finished! Thanks to everyone for sticking through that crazy long hiatus that I promised wouldn't happen..then happened.  
> Don't get discouraged by how much of an asshole Peter is, I promise things will get better eventually. They just have to suck a lot first.  
> 

“Are you sure about this?”

“Of course I am, Christina, why else would I be doing it?”

She fixed me with a stern glare, but I returned it with full force. We’d been dancing around this subject for the last few weeks or so - at first I’d tossed it around as a joke, but one look at Al’s disapproving face gave me the final determination to go through with it - and now the time had finally come.

She was standing behind me with a pair of scissors and a look of apprehension on her face - the whole situation was a stomach twisting case of anxiety and dread, really - but I wasn’t going to cave in. I’d decided months ago that when the time came to join the academy I’d part with my long hair, it wasn’t exactly tactical for the physical part of training. I hadn’t changed my mind since then and didn’t plan to start, now.

“Christina!”

“Oh fine, fine! I’m doing it- but I’m still very against this,” She grumbled, looking unhappy at being the one who was stuck cutting away the long blonde locks I’d loved and nurtured for the last twenty years of my life. That was another knot in my stomach. Twenty years. I’d been sixteen when the memory wipe had occurred, when the faceless Bureau stole my life and the lives of everyone around me - it had taken me nearly four years to fight the serum and start remembering - what I couldn’t remember on my own, I’d had help with recently.

Nita, a janitor for the academy, came from outside the city where she’d been in her own city experiment. After it had fallen into chaos, she had been allowed to live and work for a branch of government called the Bureau of Genetic Warfare. Apparently they worked on repairing “genetic damage” -  pushing towards more individuals with pure genes, whatever that meant.

When she had explained that part to me, I’d thought maybe it was a good thing, but Nita had proof that they were lying, that genetic damage was a scapegoat; she explained how the Bureau wiped out our entire city’s memories just to keep the experiment - our  _ lives _ , our genes _ - _ from going into chaos. Only to preserve their experiments, of course.

It took me a while to fully believe it, but after nearly three months of working together, of her sneaking me information and proof from her outside source, Matthew, I found it harder and harder to deny. She’d made me a believer, even if I still didn’t fully trust that her end game was really so pure as to save a bunch of people she didn’t even know.

Not only had I become sure that she was telling the truth about the memory wipe and the real world, Nita had also convinced me to help formulate and execute a plan to break into the Bureau. Apparently she and her group of radicals had planned to stop them from dropping the serum in the first place, but weren’t able to act in time. Since then they’d worked with loyalists, who believed that erasing an entire city’s lives was crossing a line, to develop a way to reverse the process. They’d only recently found the right combination to aggressively repopulate our memories, according to Matthew.

I’d been skeptical of that, too, but Nita was living, breathing proof of the reversal being a success. She’d been wiped, too, volunteered herself to be inserted into my experiment. Then, after a few weeks had passed, Matthew had mailed her an aerosol can containing their miracle cure and detailed instructions.. It had taken a few weeks for her to really fully grasp reality and differentiate the implanted memories, but she’d eventually remembered herself, and everything that had happened.

So now it was time to work on a full scale release of the serum reversal. To do that, we had to make a massive supply run - there was just no way Matthew and the radicals could ship every resident in Chicago one of those containers, let alone manage to fill as many as it would take without gathering suspicion. That’s where Nita and I came in.

It had slowly become a matter of  _ when _ rather than how.

The determined  _ snip  _ of scissors next to my ear made me flinch, and caused Christina to cluck her tongue disapprovingly. She’d nearly cut my ear, but it was my own fault. I’d been off in my own world, and hadn’t even noticed that she had begun. Whoops.

“Don’t move, Tris - I’m not happy about cutting it already, don’t make me mess up and have to shave your head. God you’d probably love that, wouldn’t you?”

I tried not to laugh, really, but the idea of being bald was equal parts terrifying and hilarious. Maybe it would be enough to get Al to stop giving me those soft eyed looks, but there was no way I could convince Christina to do it and, admittedly, I didn’t really think I’d be capable of pulling that particular style off. One look in the mirror showed me two worlds combining. Even though I was technically an adult now, I had remained birdlike; narrow, with eyes that were just on the side of too wide, a sharp nose and slender chin - my neck too skinny.

One half of my head had long locks of hair, well past my chest, I looked young and innocent on that side. The other half had a sheet of blond that ended abruptly at my jawline, following it in a severe line. It didn’t make me pretty by any standards, but I did look mature - striking - it gave me harsher angles, and I wasn’t going for pretty, anyway. I was going for practical. Christina continued, then, erasing the youthful side of me for good with a few more snips from her scissors.

My hair was still long enough to pull back into a tight bun, but short enough not to weigh me down, or be difficult to quickly clean and put up. It was perfect. I felt my lips curl into a smile without permission as I allowed my eyes to drift up and focus on the dark skinned girl behind me in the mirror. She was absorbed in not ruining my hair, her face set into a serious, focused sort of scowl.

“It looks good, Chris - I really like it,” She rolled her eyes and smiled, finally finishing the last few cuts that matched the right side of my head with the left. Only then did she meet my eyes in the mirror, smiling despite her clear distaste for my choice.

“Okay, okay. You do look pretty amazing, but shut up. This is traumatic for me.”

“It’s my hair, how is that your trauma?”

She just scoffed and flicked the back of my head, making me look forward again. “Just hush up and let me even the lines, okay?”

For a second I thought back to the last time she’d been in this mirror with me - when my face had been painted up and I’d had rational fears of Peter trying something. I swallowed the discomfort that came with thinking about that night, about him. He was nothing, inconsequential and, as my slowly returning memories supplied, just as horrible a person now as he had been before The Wipe. There was still a lot that I didn’t really remember, and I often woke up chasing vivid memories that would be gone by breakfast, but a lot of stuff was staying, feeling less surreal as time passed.

The most painful memories by far were of my family. I could remember Caleb, his betrayal and my own, how we abandoned our parents to live lives far from where they could follow. Christina stopped cutting, placing a warm hand on my shoulder, and when I looked at her in the mirror I knew I must have slipped. I’d had some look on my face that didn’t fit with the lighthearted mood we’d been sharing just a few minutes ago.

This happened a lot lately, I’d just disappear into my head, sorting through the real world that had been stolen from me and this one. Christina was convinced it was just me taking what happened between Peter and myself, and Al for that matter, poorly.

I let her think that, it was easier than the truth.

“Hey. Are you sure you’re..gonna be okay?”

“What do you mean?” I knew what she meant, but I could play dumb - for some reason Christina had come to believe that I actually felt something for Peter, that he’d tricked me into caring about him. That was laughable and entirely wrong, there was no way I felt anything but cold distrust and anger for him. He was a childish bully, nothing more, nothing less.

“Tris. You’re going to have to train with him in a few days, and you haven’t seen him since-”

“I know that, and it doesn’t matter. Peter is just another asshole I’ll have to be better than to prove to the higher ups I’m leadership material.” I jutted my chin out with a smirk that I didn’t at all feel inside. I felt knots twisting and tying together, because even though I’ve told myself that for weeks now, I can’t fight the nervousness.

This was probably the hardest part of it all, pretending my goals were on the academy and furthering my future in this perverse, rewired world the Bureau had made for us. Convincing them that I was still focused and enraptured in it, and not the one they’d erased. I was getting a little better at pretending, just a bit, though.

Christina’s lips were pressed into a thin line, but eventually she went back to cutting and nodded, “Alright, just..remember you can talk to me, okay? I’m here for you.” I smiled and thanked her, trying not to think about all the things I was hiding from my best friend. I just couldn’t tell her, not until it was safe. She’d understand when the time came..hopefully.

* * *

 

“So the main lab where they keep all of the serums is here,” Nita explained, pointing to a map that Tris had seen dozens of times now, she’d already memorized it and knew most of this, too, but she listened anyway, determined to get every detail. To make sure she could walk halls she’d never been in just as easily as she traversed the halls of her college. 

“If we don’t disable them from this room, everything will be pointless, they’ll just send out another memory wipe and our resources are depleted from making this batch, it’ll take  _ years _ to do that again. I’ve got people on a lot of this - but there’s still a fail-safe for the room that we have to deal with before any of this is possible.”

“We can’t make a move until your training is over - if we go before then, they’ll notice you’re gone too quickly. You’ll be under strict surveillance and study during the next few weeks. It’ll be just as hard as what you went through in Dauntless, if not harder.” It still felt like a sick joke, how much Nita knew about that. She explained how people watched their lives in the Bureau, like some sort of television program. Rooted for their favorites. It was so wrong.

Thankfully places like bathrooms, Nita had explained, didn’t have cameras in them, or any type of recording. The Bureau wasn’t interested in that kind of thing, and apparently didn’t suspect people like Nita and myself plotting in them. So we usually had short, ten to fifteen minute meetings in bathrooms of restaurants or the academy building now and then, setting up each one to allow for us to pass by one another without ever being suspected of actually interacting.

“I hate all of this, the training and the..pretending. I just want to get that serum and end all of this.” I murmured with a huff. I’d had to blow Christina off for this meeting, and it was another lie in a mountain that was piling higher and higher. It filled my stomach with knots, especially since I knew now why she and Al were so good at rooting out the truth. They’d been Candor, taught to sniff out deceit since they were practically babies. That matched with me being a terrible liar..well. It just made all of this more stressful and risky.

Nita gripped my shoulder and looked me in the eye with a serious kind of expression that irritated me. She looked at me like I was a child sometimes and I really, really hated it. Right now I wanted to swat her hand away, be petulant and stubborn and demand that we bring Chris and my friends into this, even though I knew that wasn’t possible without getting us found out, and that would mean the Bureau having time to prepare a counter attack.

It just wasn’t an option.

“Look, I know how hard this is for you, I’m sorry, but it’s just another month. You can do this, Tris. Now, once you’re in training..” She looked unsure for a moment, but before I could latch on to that thought her face had fallen back into her usual stern, business-only expression, and she was talking again, “There’s going to be an instructor named-- he goes by Four. He’s intense, and a bit on the scary side, but he’s an ally - like you, he’s remembering on his own and I’ve already recruited him.”

That surprised me enough to make me interrupt her, I couldn’t help it, because this was the first time she’d actually mentioned anyone else remembering without a serum, and she’d said he was like me. “He’s Divergent, you mean?” I asked, suddenly feeling anxious - I had memories of Four from before The Wipe, and everything she said was sort of familiar. Not the Divergent part, because he’d been, in my eyes, absolutely Dauntless. So that was news. He’d been harsh and intense during training, right up until the area where my memories are the foggiest. When The Wipe happened.

“Yes. Look - our time is up, and I’m not going to be able to meet you again before you start training, but don’t talk about any of this to him, you need to make sure you treat him like you would any other instructor. Don’t get friendly.” Anita looked uncomfortable, like she was hiding something again. It made my stomach coil in an uncomfortable way - was this how Christina felt when she knew I was lying to her?

“I’ll be careful, I promise.”

“Be  _ better _ than careful - convince them. Four will let you know the next time we need to meet - it won’t be for a few weeks, I need to get with Matthew and work out supplies and other things, so just focus on being believable-- And Tris?.”

I nodded, starting for the door, but turned back to look at her when she called my name. She hadn’t said in a tense, worried way like the rest, there was almost..mirth in her voice. Nita had a funny look on her face, a smirk with upraised brows, it wasn’t something I’d seen on her but a few times. I liked that look, it was comforting compared to the one she’d had earlier when talking about Four.

It made me want to trust her.

“Yeah..?”

“Break Peter’s nose for me.”

I couldn’t help smiling on the way out the door, but I tried to bite it down, knowing it would look suspicious, coming out of a bathroom like that, or just plain weird, but the idea of causing him physical harm, of taking him down a few notches made me feel warm and tingly and  _ valid. _ I managed to wipe the smile off of my face pretty quickly when chunks of a conversation I’d wanted to forget came back to me, unbidden.

_ “You said you couldn’t wait to kick my ass in training, which, I mean, that’s not going to happen but it’s a nice thought.” _

_ “I will,” _

_ “You will, what?” _

_ “Beat you, in training I mean. Just because you’re bigger doesn’t mean you’re better.” _

_ “We’ll see.” _

I guess we would, in maybe two or three days I’d find out for sure if my confidence was just a show - in my memories, Peter had beaten me, but I hadn’t known anything about fighting then. Now I was a little more trained, I was sure I could beat him.

“We’ll see,”

* * *

 

Today was going to be a lot of firsts for me. It would be the first day we’d be staying in the compound of the academy, the first time Will or Al would see me with my hair cut short (though, to be fair, it would be the first time pretty much anyone in our training group saw it aside from Chris), and, worst of all, would be the first time I’d seen Peter since the night he’d humiliated me. To say I was nervous bordering on anxious would be an understatement. I still hadn’t checked my missed messages from him.

It had been three months, there was still a manila envelope sitting at the bottom of my duffel that I didn’t have the stomach  _ or _ heart to read, but I hadn’t destroyed it yet, either, and I didn’t want to think about what either of those things meant, so there it stayed, tucked away safely. So I was definitely feeling just a little sick to my stomach as Chris and I turned the corner and spotted our friends waiting among a small crowd of people that had been in college with us.

I stood out front of the academy with one bag in my hands, trying not to look as nervous as I felt; I was sure I wouldn’t need much of what I packed, but had brought it anyway. A selfish thing, but then, I’d learned that I’m a pretty selfish person. I’d already destroyed my journal and all the files I’d written up on my computer under Nita’s command so as to not draw more attention to myself or the memories I’d been getting back.

“Wow,” Will puffed out, eyes wide and a big smile on his face, gesturing to my hair as though I didn’t know that’s what he’d meant, “It looks really cool, Tris, I bet it feels better, too, huh?” He asked, smiling in a supportive sort of way. It wasn’t like I’d ever worried that he wouldn’t support my choice - he was pretty good about not getting all huffy over things that weren’t his own body. All the same I felt a bit of tension ease out of my shoulders.

“Oh yeah, thanks. It really does feel better, my whole head is so light now!”

I nodded with a returned smile that felt easy, natural, though it dried up when Al pouted at me like a kicked puppy with a sour look in his eye, mouth set into a strange sort of frown. Clearly he didn’t approve of it, but wasn’t brave enough to say something like that. We hadn’t spent any time exclusively alone since our argument and he’d been pretty passive since then, just sulking mostly. He was probably hoping I’d have forgiven him by now.

I tried to feel guilty about it, but every time I saw that look I heard him accusing me of calling Peter up for phone sex and got angry all over again. Over the last month or so I’d gotten..not quite memories, but feelings about that night, impressions that scared the hell out of me, so I hadn’t picked at that particular case of memory loss, mostly for fear that maybe Al had been right. If he was, it had to have been Peter’s fault, that much I knew for sure.

“Yeah, it..it looks nice, Tris” Al finally spoke and I forced a grimace of a smile at him, but I didn’t thank him for the compliment. Instead I was the first one to go inside, pushing past the doors and trying not to make it feel like a death sentence. I’d gone and ruined my hopeful mood by thinking about things best left alone. It felt like there was a stone in my stomach, cold and heavy, and it made being greeted by Officer Coulter that much less intimidating. He stood with a stern sort of authority, just like he had what felt like years ago in our classroom.

Except now I was seeing Eric.

The young Dauntless leader who had dangled Christina off of a bridge over the Chasm, who had been particularly cruel and sadistic to me personally. It filled my stomach with hot rage instead of fear, though, and I held on to that. Especially when I heard more footsteps behind us and voices chattering at varying levels of volume. It was easy to imagine I could hear Peter’s snide tone, or Molly’s terrible laugh, but I was probably imagining those things.

Probably.

There was a slow silence as Eric waited with an irritated expression on his face, arms folded behind his back. Behind him stood a few officers I vaguely recognized from around the Dauntless compound in my old memories, but had yet to meet in this new world, and Four, who I wasn’t supposed to know. I tried to feign curiosity, looking around at each of them, but when the stern male with his clinical buzz cut and his narrowed eyes stared at me I felt my stomach twist and had to look away.

In my search to look at something, focus on some faraway object, I noticed Zeke, the Officer I’d done my ride along internship with, standing next to Four. When he and I met eyes, he grinned at me encouragingly, which made me feel just a little bit better.

“Alright, listen up everyone, I’m not going to repeat myself!”

Eric’s voice boomed, making me flinch, but I stood taller and focused on him, intent to ignore the way Four was still looking at me like I was some sort of offensive bit of trash in his lobby. Wasn’t he supposed to pretend he didn’t know me?

“For the next three weeks you’re going to be working on rigorous physical training and testing, you’ll be living here, as you should already know, and you’ll be given a brief tour of the areas you’re allowed to enter, as well as a breakdown of our rules here. You’ll wait here for your name to be called in blocks from your assigned trainer, they’ll escort you to your new living quarters.”

Eric’s voice was hard and commanding and I found that I hated it as much right now as I could remember hating it during Dauntless training. It made me want to squirm away, but he was looking my way so all I could do was square my shoulders and meet his cold eyes without an ounce of fear. He smirked and looked away to his next target and it felt a bit like I’d passed some kind of unspoken test.

“Less than half of you are going to make it through this portion of your training, so I’m going to warn you right now. If you’re too weak, don’t waste our time, go ahead and leave - because we aren’t going to go easy on any single one of you,”

Eric’s eyes found mine again as he said this and I felt anger boiling to the surface. I managed to scowl at him, and he seemed amused by that, chuckled even, before he took a step back and dropped his hands to his sides.

“Welcome to the Academy, recruits. We’ll be watching, train hard and don’t disappoint me!”

It took two entire blocks of names to be called before I heard my own, and..surprisingly, Four hadn’t been assigned to me. Somewhere inside I felt a bit of relief there, I didn’t like the way he kept staring me down. It made me feel like I’d done something wrong, when I clearly hadn’t.

When Zeke called out Peter’s name I made it a point to look anywhere but in the direction of the slowly growing group standing around waiting to see who else they roomed with. I could feel his eyes on me, but didn’t do a thing to acknowledge it. There was a bit of disappointment and pity in me for someone as nice as Zeke being stuck with someone as terrible as Peter. Christina leaned into me, brushing shoulders and murmured quietly.

“He’s staring you down, like, kinda hardcore..”

“Good for him.”

“Christina Murillio,”

She groaned and bumped my arm with a long suffering sigh, but still made the walk. I followed her with my eyes, watching her and nothing else so I didn’t run the risk of looking at him. I wouldn’t give him the pleasure of my attention, not until I absolutely had to, anyway.

When my name was called it wasn’t really a surprise, but it twisted in my stomach all the same. Of course my luck would run out after not being paired with Four - but hey, at least I had Christina, and she was where I made the bee-line towards.

I managed to look at my future trainer with what I hoped was a friendly smile, but that meant my eyes had to graze over Peter’s face - I didn’t catch a single detail in the exchange, but it felt like I swallowed a handful of ice all the same. Zeke grinned and gave me a thumbs up as I walked over to stand with Chris, feeling a small bit of relief at the realization that I was happy to have him as a trainer - someone friendly and reliable.

At that point I had no other choice but to turn around and face the room I’d been ignoring, which meant looking Drew in the eye when his name was called. The smug bastard kissed the air in my direction and I had to ball my hands into fists to keep from lunging at him. Chris put a hand on my wrist and squeezed gently, and I felt a wave of gratitude for her. She was probably going to be the only thing that kept me from losing my mind for the next month.

Once our group was complete, Zeke looked down at the clipboard in his hand with that same, friendly smile. It was still as unnerving now as it had been when I’d interned that he was so naturally, comfortably happy and friendly. Downright odd. I didn’t have any memories of him from Dauntless, but he was undoubtedly one of them- one of  _ us _ .

“Alright guys, I’m Zeke, I’ll be your trainer through the next month or so - let’s get the rules done with first, okay?” It was a rhetorical question, but I heard Peter scoff all the same, like he was trying not to say something snarky. That familiar sense of blood boiling started up, but instead of letting it happen, I squeezed my fists tighter until I felt the painful bite of nails against my palms. It grounded me enough to focus.

“Pretty basic stuff, but gotta go through it anyway,” Zeke droned on like he’d rather be doing anything else, “No leaving the compound during training days, no fighting with your fellow trainees outside of sanctioned brawls, no food in your dorms,” And so on and so forth, there were a surprising number of rules, actually, and at the end he had each of us sign a form saying that we agreed to the mandates under penalty of removal from the program.

Next was a brief tour, we’d all seen the place before, but not where we’d be staying. There was a small area with washers and dryers, a supply closet full of bathroom amenities, a cafeteria, and then the bathrooms themselves that were, thankfully, not unisex.

I noticed things that I probably wouldn’t have, if it weren't for knowing about The Wipe, like how supposedly all the other officers had gone through this program before, and it was a normal, routine thing, but every part of the compound looked new, barely used. It had the wear and tear of four years, not fifteen or twenty like it should have looked.

The whole time we were being shown around, I could feel eyes on me, and once someone grabbed for my arm, but I brushed past them and walked up to Zeke directly to ask him a meaningless question about the supply closet. He didn’t seem to mind one bit, actually he seemed sort of pleased to have someone ask him questions.

Clearly I couldn’t avoid Peter forever, but for now I was fine with putting it off for as long as possible. Christina was a pretty good buffer through it all. I reminded myself to thank her personally when I wasn’t so focused on ignoring my surroundings entirely. Well, not entirely. I gave Zeke and the halls we walked my full attention.

Eventually we made it to the actual dorms, which were basically just a long, open room with twelve bunk beds that didn’t look particularly comfortable, but at the very least seemed sturdy. Zeke stopped here and folded his arms behind his back, addressing the group of them as a whole.

“This is your dorm, you’re only to sleep here, no sneaking into the others - and trust me, we’ll know,” He seemed to look directly at Christina with a wicked sort of smirk, but she simply smiled back like she was innocent. I tried not to laugh, hiding it in a quiet cough, instead.

“You’ll be expected to keep this area neat and organized, we’ll have inspections at random, now get settled in, you’re free to familiarize yourself with the compound for the next half hour, after that you’ll start your first training session, so I’ll see you then!”

I stormed to a bunk in the far corner, throwing my bag on the top just as Christina tossed hers on the bottom. There weren’t any other bunks around it for a good few feet, but the next closest one was occupied almost as soon as mine had been, by Peter and Drew. I hadn’t meant to look, but, well, I wanted to see who I’d be neighbored with and that’s how I met Peter’s eyes. He scowled at me, and I scowled right back. I managed to not drop my expression, even when I heard Drew making obscene kissing noises.

Meeting Peter’s eyes didn’t feel one bit like I’d touched an exposed wire, my stomach definitely wasn’t twisting into knots and I absolutely was not thinking of going over there and punching him in his stupid face. Finally I tore my eyes away and turned my entire body away from them, nothing good would come from letting those two rile me up. Chris looked at me with a supportive kind of smile and looped her arm through mine.

“Let’s go check out the cafeteria, maybe we can grab a snack before training,”

As we left, Peter’s voice rang out, not overly loud, but loud enough for me to hear, and it took everything in me not to turn around and attack him. Chris’ arm tightened around mine and she patted the back of my hand gently.

“Keep running, Prior. Just like the little kid you are.”

This was going to be the longest month of my entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! So we're back in the swing, things are kicking off. Next chapter will include a fair bit of physical violence and blood, so be ready for the sparring to begin!  
> As always I appreciate your comments and support and I'm excited to hear any ideas you might have about where this is going. Nothing is set in stone~  
> I'm cautiously hopeful about having another chapter up in a week or so, but don't hold me to that. Super psyched to be back at this again and to have you all here for the ride.


	2. Truculent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truculent  
> (adj.) overly aggressive, eager to fight

The cafeteria was a disappointing endeavor since we could only eat during scheduled times, but it worked to help me escape from Peter. I recoiled at the thought of _escape_. At the first sign of conflict I’d turned tail and ran, just like he’d said. I didn’t want to run or hide or be meek, anymore, that wasn’t a reputation I was eager to keep. I wanted to impose on him, make sure he saw that I was an immovable object that he couldn’t just trample and destroy. I’d let that happen too much already.

“Tris?”

Chris was looking at me like I’d just grown a second head, which I was pretty sure wasn’t the case, so I must have done something to cause her sudden attention. I’d gotten that look enough times to realize I’d zoned out again. She was worried, she’d been talking and I wasn’t even paying attention. Oops. I bit the inside of my cheek and met her eyes, the ones narrowed in some sort of silent question.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

“Tris..are you..I mean, are you absolutely sure it’s a good idea for you to do this in the same class as Peter?”

We’d had this conversation before. Every time I had to convince her that I was strong enough to handle myself, it chipped away a little more of my patience. Chris still thought I was weak, in need of protection; I set my jaw in a determined clench that made her huff.

“I’m just saying, there’s no shame in waiting until the next round of training in six months. You could..I don’t know, go visit your family or something? Take a break, I mean you’ve earned that much.” She knew that wasn’t possible, I didn’t have that sort of clearance, but it was nice of her to offer me a reasonable out that didn’t sound like I was a coward. I shook my head and huffed out a laugh that was severely lacking in any mirth or humor.

“I’m not running, Christina. I’m done letting anyone dictate what I can and cannot do, especially him. Peter neither owns nor controls me.”

“Okay! You’re a bad ass, independent woman who doesn’t take anyone’s shit, we get it,” She joked, which stung at the way she made the sentence seem _laughable_ , but I let her keep talking all the same because, deep down, I knew she meant well. She just didn’t _understand_. “But you just spent the last ten minutes in la la land, and you’ve been doing that a lot lately. I’m worried, Tris.”

Oh no. She pulled out the big guns, putting both hands on my shoulders and staring me down in a way that felt more like my soul was being probed. I’d only seen Chris do this a few times, but it always ended with her getting the truth. I swallowed hard. Lying would be impossible, even if I were good at it. It’s not like I _wanted_ to lie to her, to not tell her why my head was in the clouds, really. Quite the opposite, actually. It burned with shame every time she assumed - every time I let her believe - that I was thinking about Peter instead of the real issues going on, but it was the best way.

“What’s going on with you? I mean, is it just..Peter? Is it stress about the training, because I mean I know you’re small but you’re fast, so it’s not like you can’t use that. Just..talk to me, I want to help.”

I pinched my lips into a tight line, trying to focus on not making any tell-tale moves that would immediately out me for the dirty liar I was. One deep breath later, filled with silence, and she was cocking her head to the side, clearly impatient.

“Tris..I’m your friend, you can talk to me, you know that.”

I hated how she said my name like that. Like I was some kid who needed to be coddled and protected. It made my face flush. Why did everyone have to treat me that way? Memories of being compared to a little girl, being told I was a child, over and over again, made my gut twist and coil into a nasty emotion I couldn’t quite name.

“I’m fine, Christina, I’m not backing down and I’m not going to let Peter take this from me,” All of that was true, vehemently so, and she seemed marginally satisfied by what I’d said, but still didn’t back down. Of course not, she was headstrong and determined, and she felt that she’d failed me by sending me out with Peter that first time - so of course she wasn’t going to make this easy for me.

“Do you, I mean, do you..care about him, is that what’s making it so hard on you?”

The laugh that passed my lips was nasty, and I felt a bit of shame in just how cold the noise was, I hadn’t exactly meant for that to come out _that_ harsh. I placed a hand over hers, and raised my brows. That seemed to make her feel a little better; the grip on my shoulders loosened while at the same time the pinch between her brows eased up. I raised a finger and poked at the crinkle of skin, the physical contact still made me feel uneasy, I didn’t absently touch people like she did, but it felt like a good thing to do.

“I care about beating him, Chris, that’s it. Now stop that, you look way too much like Will when you make that face.”

Almost as soon as the words passed my lips I heard a jingle of laughter from my right and Christina’s hands were off of me entirely, turning to face Will with a smile. He mirrored it, but shot me a look with upraised brows.

“And what’s so wrong with looking like me?”

I smirked, watching Christina bridge the gap between them to wrap her arms around his waist and plant a kiss on his cheek. Will turned pink at the ears, but otherwise seemed pleased at the attention, even stopping to press his lips to her forehead. I felt a small twinge of discomfort and looked off to the side. It was just my aversion to public affection, nothing more.

“Mm. Absolutely nothing, though I’d hate to lose my good looks all the same,” Christina practically purred, ripping an eye roll out of me. Al was pretending to gag, which, okay, I laughed a little, but I still didn’t meet his eyes. I wasn’t ready to make things between us okay.

Chris and Will were disgustingly adorable, honestly, but it made me happy that at least they had their lives together. In all this horrible stuff happening, it was nice to see one genuinely good thing in my life. Two of my best friends were happy, and if that didn’t give me something to smile about, nothing would. Focusing on my friends made my heart feel a little less heavy and I managed to even feel better.

So of course the trio of nightmares chose that moment to traipse into the room as though they owned it.

Molly had her arms looped around Peter’s bicep and Drew had his hands in his pockets with a look of practiced boredom on his face. I wasn’t going to let them ruin the happy, bubbly feeling in my chest. Or, at least, I didn’t plan on it, until Molly spotted me and sneered, raising her fingers in a mock camera and miming taking a shot. That’s when I started to take deep breaths.

“Tris are you--? Oh, crap.”

A warm hand found its way to my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, and I breathed heavily through my nose. I wasn’t angry, I was with my friends, we were happy, having a good time, even. I was _fine_. Somewhere in the back of my head a voice was telling me to look somewhere else, that nothing good could come from this, but it was like watching a train wreck. I couldn’t pull my eyes away, even when I heard the sound of Christina saying my name.

Slowly, purposefully, Molly leaned up a few inches, eyes on me, and pressed a kiss to Peter’s cheek, nearly the corner of his mouth. That didn’t bother me, if anyone in the world was good for someone as slimy as Peter it would be her, so I didn’t have any reason care about the kiss. I _didn’t_ care about it, but the fact that she thought I did, that she was doing it to rile me up, now _that_ pissed me off. He glanced down at her and grinned, but I didn’t miss the way his eye flitted to the corner. To me. Right before he leaned in to whisper something in her ear that made her smile split into a wide grin.I felt a twist in my gut that was absolutely not jealousy.

Hatred, that’s what it was. Absolute, soul rending hatred.

I barely even registered Christina calling after me as I turned and left the cafeteria, but Molly and Drew’s laughter followed me like they were right in my ear, reverberating in my skull and giving me a very strong urge to punch things. So I followed my feet and found myself in the practice room Zeke had shown us earlier. A few of the trainers were hanging around chatting on the other side of the room where a row of lockers with benches sat, but I didn’t try and talk to any of them.

Instead I made a beeline for the punching bags and took my stance. As my knees bent and locked into place, and I prepared to draw a fist back, a memory came unbidden of a large, warm hand pressed to my abdomen. Without meaning to, my eyes sought out Four all the way across the room, leaning into one of the lockers with his arms crossed. Zeke was talking to him animatedly, hands flailing and all, but Four wasn’t watching. He was staring me down with an expression I couldn’t decipher. Whatever it was, though, it couldn’t be good.

When I’d been staring for a solid few seconds, one of his brows rose and he tilted his head marginally, gesturing in the direction of my chosen punching bag with his chin as though to tell me to get to it, already. I shook my head and looked away, glaring at the leather bag in front of me. He was right, I wasn’t here to have stare-offs with strange, brooding trainers - even if he was the only other person I knew who could remember the erased world and all I wanted to do was talk to him about it - I was here to blow off steam.

That’s exactly what I did.

The punches came easily, my knuckles stung a bit at the contact - I knew they would be raw and bruised, it was just a fact of life - but each hit made me feel better. I had done this back in Dauntless, but that had been four years ago; four years of letting my muscles soften and my callouses fade. I’d have to earn them all again, but the difference this time was that I knew what it felt like to go through it it, and what I was capable of. I didn’t let the twinges of pain stop me.

As the time ticked down for our first training session, a few people from my group appeared, but I didn’t stop throwing punches. Uriah and Lynn didn’t waste any time in following my lead, finding their own area to warm up, but others preferred to stand around and chat. I spotted Chris come in, but she didn’t approach me. It wasn’t until I heard Eric’s voice that I stopped with a feeling like ice in my veins. I’d have to eventually get used to that, wouldn’t I?

“As much as I appreciate the..enthusiasm from you three, get back over here with the rest of your groups, you’re gonna want to save your energy today.”

I felt a twinge of irritation, but found my way over to Christina who was looking at me with upraised brows and a half smile. As we stood there, waiting for the rest of the group to line up, I examined my knuckles. They were red, but not raw, not yet. Chris shook me out of my reverie by asked exactly what I’d been thinking,

“I thought Zeke was our trainer? What’s Tall-Dark-and-Scary doing here?” I appreciated that she didn’t ask about Peter, or me storming out. Those weren’t things I felt like thinking about, let alone discussing.

“No idea. Maybe he wants to spook everyone good on the first day or something?”

“I think it’s working,” Will piped up to my right, startling me. It was their group and ours, but I didn’t see anyone else, so I could only assume the other two groups would be training together on a different interval or something. A bit like how the Dauntless born had been separate from the transfers, but back then there had only been nine of us, and these two groups made it closer to fourteen or fifteen. Zeke was standing close by with Four, arms crossed and his usual smile was nowhere to be found. Maybe he didn’t like Eric, either.

When the clock in the back landed on 9:30 exactly, Eric straightened up and folded his arms behind his back again, looking between the trainees with an expression that I could only interpret as disappointment. That wasn’t exactly fair, he hadn’t even seen what any of us were capable of, but had already judged us disappointing. I tried not to scowl. From what I remembered, Eric wasn’t exactly my idea of _fair_ anyway.

“Alright, in case it wasn’t clear, both Zeke and Four’s groups will be training together. Later you will swap between Laura and Shauna’s, but for now the people in this room are the ones you’re competing against. Today you’re going to show me what you’re capable of. At the end of the combat stage training in three weeks, you’ll show me again, and I expect to be impressed then. You’re going to spar against myself, Zeke, or Four, and each of us will judge you accordingly.”

Almost immediately murmuring broke out as people digested the fact that, not only were we expected to fight so soon, but against the practiced officers meant to train us. Eric’s brow twitched with barely contained irritation, so I made it a point to stare straight forward with my mouth set into a thin line, even as Christina mumbled in shock.

“We have to spar with _them_? They’re basically sentient sacks of muscle..”

“Enough!” Eric barked, and if I hadn’t predicted the outburst, I might have jumped. As it were, I only felt Chris tense to my left, but managed to stay immobile. I heard Molly mutter loudly about how unfair this was, and from the look on his face, Eric had, too.

“Unfair?” The trainees all separated without a moment’s hesitation as the brooding officer stormed towards the general direction her complaint had come from. I turned to watch with barely concealed amusement. When Eric got to Molly she sneered at him, to her credit, rather than cowering. “Was that you?” He asked darkly, to which she nodded, keeping her jaw jutted up defiantly. Molly Atwood could be called many unpleasant things, but a coward wasn’t among them. I could see Drew and Peter bristling as Eric fixed her with a wide smirk,

“It would be _unfair_ to throw you out into the field to practice against real criminals with real weapons. Aren’t you confident in your own abilities, recruit? Or are you gunning for a safe, cosy little desk job?”

She scowled and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to make herself look bigger. It was hard not to notice how Drew shuffled closer to her, pressing his shoulder against hers, and then Peter followed suit on the other side. It made me want to look away, but I didn’t. This was a lesson, and I wanted to see how Eric handled those now. There wasn’t a chasm to hang her over, and this wasn’t Dauntless - if he threw her out she could just come back in six months’ time.

“I’ve just spent the last four years with the rest of these idiots, learning out of books and doing paperwork, not hand to hand combat, it’s not fair to test us without teaching us anything, first!” Molly might have thought her confidence was winning points, but from the way Eric’s hand tightened behind his back and his eyebrows pushed together, she was doing everything wrong.

“Well these _idiots_ seem pretty content to show me what they’ve got instead of whining like some petulant child. If you want the kiddie bumpers on, then fine. You’ll spar with another recruit.” He turned and stared into the crowd, eyes finding me and staying. Damn. This was a little too familiar, but then, this version of Molly probably didn’t remember how to fight. Maybe.

“How about her? She’s pretty scrawny, that feel a little more fair, you out-sizing her?” Molly smirked, clearly pleased with who he’d picked. Maybe she felt like it would be easy to take me down, or maybe she just wanted to finish what we’d started in front of my apartment. I don’t know what possessed me to say it, but I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of my mouth.

“I don’t want to fight her - you said we’re fighting trainers today, put me up against one of you.” And as though I thought I could redeem speaking up against him, I immediately tacked on a sharp, “Please. Sir,” at the end. His nostrils flared, and it was clear that having not one, but two defiant recruits wasn’t his idea of a good start. After a few heartbeats, he managed to reign in his features until that smirk was back. The one that turned my blood to ice.

I’d messed up, badly.

“Alright, recruit. If you’re so eager to get your ass handed to you,” And just like that he was pulling off his uniform jacket, leaving just the white t-shirt below that was tucked immaculately into his pants. “You can be the first one to go up against me.” There was a lot of muscle there, more than I expected, and all I could think was how much this was going to hurt. Instead of saying that, though, I tilted my chin up and met his eyes.

“Gladly.”

Eric laughed, a short bark of noise that was entirely unpleasant and every bit as cruel as the one from my memories. He shot a look back at Molly, who was a shade of red that I’d yet to see on her, staring back at him with her mouth twisted into a hard scowl.

“I don’t want to hear the words ‘unfair’ from you, again. If a girl half your size is confident enough to go up against me, you shouldn’t have any problem.”

Across the room it looked like Four was about to walk over, but Zeke grabbed his shoulder with a subtle shake of his head. I schooled my face into what I hoped was a look of confidence, turning away from Eric and walking towards the mat stretched out in the floor where he’d been standing earlier.

He came to stand across from me, mouth set into a feral sort of grin, it was terrifying how much he was enjoying his little display of power.

“You’re going to regret your bravery, recruit.”

“We’ll see,”

With a hiss through his teeth Eric straightened and waved over Zeke and Four, instructing them to be watching, “Keep an eye on how quick she goes down, we’ll have to compare it later.” The words sent a spark of irritation through me, so I did all I could think to do - I got into a defensive stance, and waited for him to lunge. He would, I knew he would, but I had no idea how _quick_ he would be.

Eric zipped in and his fist connected with my forearm, I barely managed to block him, but it felt like I’d been hit with a metal rod and not someone’s fist. He had me retreating, giving him ground as his fists came at me, swinging towards my head and my stomach in intervals. Most of them hit and stung, but a fair bit of them I actually managed to block. I remembered being told I was fast, to use that to my advantage, but couldn’t see how I’d be able to do something like that when he was fast, too. My body was singing with pain, but I managed to..mostly stay focused.

I feigned a hit to his left and when he blocked that, threw my leg up to smack him solidly in the side of his head - or, at least, that’s what I’d aimed on doing, but apparently he’d read into it because instead of striking at his ear, I hit the solid flat of his palm. Eric’s fingers wrapped around my leg and _yanked_ , taking me off of my feet and all the wind wooshed out of my lungs the moment my back hit the mat.

I felt a sharp pain in my hip, like someone had stabbed me with a hot knife, but I did my best to ignore it. Instead of staying down, I flipped and rose up onto my knee, rolling when he threw his leg at me. Pain flared at my hip in a constant, pulsing ache.

Back on my feet again, I jabbed, managing to box his ear and hit his cheekbone, but the third punch glanced off of his forearm harmlessly. My hands were throbbing in time to my heartbeat. He followed up his block with a hard elbow to my ribs that had me crying out, then a punch that hit me hard across the bridge of my nose. I retreated a few steps back, glaring at him as sweat beaded my forehead. He laughed, not even sounding winded, as hot blood began to ooze down my chin.

“I’m impressed, newbie. I expected to have you on the mat by now.”

“You said it yourself,” Unlike Eric, I was very much out of breath, so my voice came out choppy. With the brief reprieve he was giving me, I quickly wiped at the blood on my face with the back of my hand, smearing it on my pants, “I’m small. Small girl has to know how to defend herself in this profession,” I smirked back at him, feeling strangely comfortable, in control. Without really thinking, I’d begun bouncing on the balls of my feet, ready to move even as each bounce sent a jolt of pain up my leg, but I was getting used to that.

He lunged again, but I managed to read it this time in the coil of his muscles, so I side-stepped and landed a hard hit into his back, right where the kidney would be. It didn’t look like the strike hurt him much, but it had been a strike all the same and I felt proud of that fact. Thinking he’d take a moment to recover, I relaxed my stance.

That was my mistake. He came back around quick as lightning, going low and sweeping my legs out from under me. My shoulders smacked the mat while I was winded for the second time, wheezing for breath. Eric didn’t allow me time to recover like he had the first time. Before I could even consider getting back up, he was hovering over me, straddling my stomach. It was like having a car sitting on my chest and my punches did nothing, he managed to catch one forearm, then the other, crossing and pinning them against my chest in an uncomfortably painful position.

“Time?”

“Two minutes,” It was the first time I’d heard Four speak outside of my memories, and it made me glance up at him involuntarily. The look on his face was tight and uncomfortable - the moment we locked eyes he glanced away with a harder frown, if possible. I looked back up to Eric, who was just grinning at me, brows upraised. The only way I could tell I’d had any effect on him at all was the faint beads of sweat on his temples and the way his chest rose and fell just a little quicker than it’d been doing before the fight. Me, on the other hand, I was panting and sweating, and I knew I’d have quite a few bruises popping up in the next day or so.

“Not bad for a twig.” He hummed, getting back to his feet and holding a hand out for me. I took it, pulling myself up rather than allowing him to. My forearms throbbed from the pressure he’d applied and I could still feel his weight crushing my chest, but I was proud all the same. This was a much better start than I’d ever had back in Dauntless. Eric had a hand on my shoulder, which I longed to squirm out from under, but I managed to ignore it.

When I turned back to the training groups I noticed a few things. Christina and Will were wide eyed, Al was sour faced, and Peter had made it to the front of the group, presumably to watch. Sadistic prick. Molly and Drew were behind him looking equal parts surprised (Drew) and irritated (Molly), but Peter, the was the one I couldn’t quite figure out.

The look on his face was..strange. It might have been jealousy. His nostrils were flared and his lips were white with how hard he was pressing them together, hands balled into fists at his sides. For a moment I thought back to the night I’d been in his and Will’s apartment, when he’d had my forearm in a vice grip. I thought of the fight we’d had in Dauntless, of his ruthless violence.

He was likely bitter that I’d gotten the first fight in and made a good impression. I’d set the bar, and I’m sure it burned him up that I hadn’t gone down in under a minute, like everyone expected me to. The fact that he had any type of expression on his face that wasn’t smug filled me with a buzzing sense of pride. _Beat that_ , I thought, grinning, but I didn’t move from Eric, he hadn’t dismissed me, after all.

“You can sit back and watch the others fight, you’re done for now, Twig.” The nickname wiped my grin off and replaced it with a scowl, but I nodded without complaint. Eric gave my shoulder a none-too-gentle squeeze and murmured under his breath, “Don’t make it a habit to undermine me, or I’ll do more than twinge your leg next time” That reminded me dangerously of what he was capable of.

I bit the inside of my cheek and responded, just as quiet as he’d been, “I wouldn’t dream of it, sir.” That must have been good enough because he laughed and patted me on the back, sending me off with nothing more than a quick, “Smart girl. I’ll have to keep my eye on you.” It sent a chill through me - he’d said those words before, and they’d been a threat, then. I wasn’t sure if they were now, and I didn’t want to find out.

I glanced at the faces in front of me, noting that Al looked jealous now, too, and that was just ridiculous, so I opted to ignore him and went to stand with Chris, who was still looking at me like I’d told her I liked playing dress up. At least Peter’s jealousy was understandably power hungry and selfish. Al was probably annoyed that I wasn’t some damsel he could save. He wasn’t doing himself any favors on getting back in my good graces.

“Holy shit, Tris!” She gasped, squeezing my arms while clearly holding back from jumping around. For that I was grateful. “Where did you learn to fight like that? You were bad ass.” I just laughed and rubbed the back of my neck, which turned out to be covered in sweat, too. While I thought up a good answer, my hands mechanically reached up to release the tight bun at the top of my head, gathering all my hair up and back into a neater one. Being knocked to the mat had loosed quite a few strands and it itched to feel them sticking to my skin.

“Like I said to Officer Coulter, a girl’s got to know how to defend herself,” I lied, but not technically, because that _was_ what I’d told him. It soured my good mood to realize I was starting to learn how to lie a lot better. I didn’t like that one bit.

After my fight, I watched dozens more, most people were on the mat and done in a minute or less. The only few who lasted as long as I had were Christina, Peter and Marlene. None of them beat my time, but it had been close for a few. I managed to keep a thirty second lead on the best of them, and it pleased me more than I cared to admit that Peter barely even managed to stay on his feet for more than a minute and fifteen seconds against Zeke.

Maybe the academy wouldn’t be half bad, after all.

* * *

 

Most of the day passed in a blur of exhaustion.

Once all the sparring had finished, and the times had been marked down - along with various other notes that we weren't allowed to read - we’d had to run laps around the compound, followed by a quick example of what our exercise regime would look like, starting tomorrow. At lunch time we’d all gathered in the cafeteria, haggard and worn down to the point conversation hadn’t even been a possibility, but I’d noticed Peter and Co. huddled together, shooting me nasty looks over their meals. That didn’t bode well.

After that we’d been introduced to the obstacle course we’d be expected to complete by the end of our training. It was brutal. We spent half an hour or so working through it, just familiarizing ourselves, before Zeke and Four had rounded us all up, leading us back to the training room. Eric was there again, which made me squirm with discomfort. If he was around, it wasn’t going to be for a good reason.

“Alright, now. You’ve all seen what it’s like to spar with someone practiced, so now you’ll be going against one another.” This was starting to feel a lot like Dauntless training.

“Once again, you’ll be watched and recorded. The fight ends when you’ve pinned your opponent and they’re unable to escape, or they give up.” At least the academy allowed their opponent to concede, though the look on Eric’s face spoke volumes on how he felt about the second option. That made this feel just a little less brutal. Behind Eric was something I recognized without even trying, though the last time I’d seen one, it had been drawn up on an old chalk board.

The last names of everyone in Zeke and Four’s group had been written up on a white board, beneath it were boxes that started out with seven rows, but lost a box on each new row until there was only one at the very bottom. Names were matched up in the top boxes, showing who would be fighting who today. It turned out each group had exactly seven people, because there were no odd names left out of the pairs.

It wasn’t really surprising that I’d been paired off with Molly. Apparently Eric hadn’t been kidding about that. I wasn’t sure if I felt disappointed or eager - I wanted to hurt her, and that scared me enough that I didn’t want to fight her at all. I caught Eric’s eye after looking at the board, and he smirked at me. Was that pride in his eyes? I didn’t much care for whatever it was, so I looked at Zeke, instead. He offered another supportive thumb’s up, which I couldn’t help smiling at.

“As you can see behind me, your names have been paired off with your partners, the winners of each sparring match will move on to the next round, and so on, until we’ve got the final two. This is something we’ll only be doing twice this week, then we’ll give you a day to learn basic self defense tactics,” His lip curled and I noticed that Eric made it a point to look at Molly, “After that, fights will be held every other morning of training, until the end of the combat phase.”

I’d gone back to fully watching Eric, not wanting to seem like I wasn’t paying attention. He didn’t look at me this time, so that was a good start. Instead, he surveyed the group as though looking for anyone who felt the need to argue with him on any of this. When no one spoke up, he continued.

“Today is just to test your skills, so you won’t  be judged as harshly as you will be next time. Three fights will go on at a time, over-watched by myself and your trainers, so the first three groups on the board, get up here and pair off.”

Eric looked entirely too excited to watch this happen. I was disappointed to find out that Molly and I would be going last, but that meant I got to watch and see what everyone else was like, first, so it wasn’t all bad. Christina was paired off against Lynn, Drew with Al and Uriah with a guy I didn’t recognize, but on the board he was listed as Cabello. He must have been a Dauntless born. It ended with Lynn, Al and Uriah as the winners.

A lot of the fights were similar, uncertain jabs and strikes, sloppy postures, and easy pins. It took a lot less time than I’d have expected to watch the next group go up. Peter was fighting some girl listed as Rolland and won easily, while Will and Marlene paired off with Marlene just barely winning. The last two were people I vaguely recognized but didn’t really feel the need to look too closely at, Laghari and Denton. It hit me in the middle of all the fighting what had felt off - the lack of Edward and Myra, but I had absolutely no idea where they were in this new world.

Eventually it came down to Molly and I. After fighting Eric, I wasn’t even a little anxious. Even if Molly could fight, I could, too. The first time she’d beaten me, I’d had the disadvantage of knowing nothing, and not necessarily wanting to strike her. This time I had knowledge under my belt, and I wasn’t concerned about hurting her one little bit, which should have bothered me more than it did. We walked up to the mat that was probably covered in sweat and definitely spattered with a bit of blood.

I took a glance around, noticing that Four looked bored, but Zeke seemed genuinely interested, though none of them could match the manic look of pleasure on Eric’s face. He looked like a cat who’d caught its mouse, playing with it rather than being kind enough to kill the thing. It sent a shudder down my spine, and I suddenly felt a little like I was playing into his hands.

Molly smirked and put her arms up in a sloppy defense, “You shaking in your boots, Prior?” Somehow she managed to make my own name sound like an insult, but I just scowled at her, putting my own fists up in response. The correct way. “Maybe we can get Drew to take another picture, put it with the first one, wouldn’t that be sweet?”

“Quit talking and fight me,” I grunted, lunging forward to jab at her face. She didn’t back up, but she also didn’t block very well, the first hit deflected off of her arm, but the next one allowed for me to hit her in the jaw, which sent a hot wave of pain through my knuckles, but the noise she made was absolutely worth it. After that she formed a wall with her forearms over her face, which freed up her torso.

I went straight for her open spot, next, landing a hard punch to her stomach, which was a level of cathartic that I shouldn’t have enjoyed. She sounded like she was trying to suck all of the air out of the room before a growl of frustration escaped and her guard dropped entirely. Molly stepped forward and I stepped back, ducking her first wide swing, but missing the next. Even if she wasn’t practiced, it hurt when her knuckles bashed into the side of my head. I retreated a few more steps, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

As Molly stepped up, ready to strike again, I coiled my muscles and moved first, playing the same feint trick I’d done with Eric. The difference was that she didn’t predict the kick like he had, so my foot connected easily with the side of her head, sending her staggering as she tried to get her bearings. I took advantage of her moment of weakness to dig in a solid punch right around where the diaphragm was, causing a sharp, wheezing noise to escape her lips. I liked that sound a lot more than anything I’d ever heard her say.

She struck out blindly, trying to land a hit in a flurry of messy punches, most of which I blocked, but even the ones that hit didn’t hurt nearly as much as Eric’s had, though my slowly forming bruises twinged at being struck all the same. Molly gave chase, but I didn’t give her much ground before I tried what Eric had done, dropping low and sweeping her legs from beneath her. Just like I had, Molly went down, crying out and gasping as her back smacked the mat, taking her breath in the process.

I didn’t waste any time planting myself on her stomach, grabbing both arms to pin them to the mat by either side of her head. Molly glared up at me through her bangs, face red and eyes full of murder. I was going to pay for this, but the victory felt good, so I enjoyed it. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but the words were out of my mouth with a grin before I could take them back,

“Still want Drew to take a picture?”

“Get off of me!”

When I let go of her, I sprang up quickly, knowing she’d likely lash out. Her elbow struck my hip, which stung, but that was all that happened before she brushed her bangs away and scowled at me. Molly stood straight and kept her dignity intact, storming right over to Peter and Drew. 

My stomach dropped. 

Peter was looking right at me. I’d barely even broken a sweat, but the look on his face made me feel suddenly warm. I didn’t enjoy the sensation, nor that weird expression. It looked like pride..or maybe hunger. Neither of those were options I cared to think about, so I scowled and looked away from him, opting to hurry over to my friends instead.

When I looked his way, Eric’s expression wasn’t any more comforting. If anything it was worse. He grinned at me, clearly impressed, which didn’t feel good at all.

Zeke walked up to the board and scribbled down names in the next rows. It was Lynn against Peter, which filled my chest with relief, Al vs. the one that had won between the two Dauntless born I hadn’t recognized, last name Laghari, Uriah and Marlene against one another and that left..me. With no one to fight.

These fights lasted a little bit longer and were way harsher than the previous ones. Blood spilled faster, and the punches were much more brutal, calculated. Like people were getting the hang of it, or maybe operating on muscle memory. Al ended up with a cut above his left eyebrow, losing to Laghari, who now had a busted lower lip to show for it.

Al seemed kind of relieved to have lost, which didn’t surprise me. Then there was Lynn and Peter. Zeke had to step in when Peter had Lynn’s arm behind her back, twisted to the point he was close to breaking it. A few moves later, with Lynn going easy on her injured arm, Peter had pinned her, face down with her arms behind her. She headbutted him, but not hard enough to draw blood. He won all the same, which made my stomach twist. That raised the chances of us fighting.

I hated the way he looked blissed out, like fighting was his own personal drug. There was blood specked on his face from when Lynn had spit it out at him. It blended well with his freckles, which was a weirdly morbid thought that had me staring at my feet.

Marlene and Uriah were less brutal, but that didn’t mean they went easy on one another. It was a close call, at one point Uriah had Marlene pinned, but she’d twisted them around so she had him down on the mat. In the end Marlene had won, but only barely. Neither had drawn blood, but from the number of hits they’d taken, the pair would be nicely bruised. So that left Laghari, Peter, and Marlene.

I wasn’t really eager to fight any of them, but I stood at the mat and waited all the same as Zeke and Eric stood by the board and looked over their notes. I don’t know why I’d even tried to hope for a fight against Marlene, or even Laghari - of course it would end up being against Peter. Peter, with his brutal fighting style and ruthless attitude. I felt cold. The taunts from a lifetime ago rose to the surface, even if Peter wasn’t actually saying anything as he got to the mat, Marlene’s blood smeared across his cheek, knuckles busted open. He looked feral.

 _"You okay there, Stiff? You look like you're about to cry, I might go easy on you if you cry."_   
  
"Come on, Stiff, just one little tear. Maybe some begging."

I swallowed my anxiety and bent my knees, trying to remember all the terrible things he’d done to me. Peter barely even managed to get into his stance before I made my move. I needed this fight to be quick and clinical. I didn't want to waste time, risk thinking about what he smelled like, how his laugh sounded when he wasn’t being cruel. How warm his hand felt splayed across my back-- No.

I wasn’t going to go there.

That had all been a ploy, a _game_ , I chided in my head. With that in mind, all the rage and betrayal and _hurt_ I'd been cooping up finally bubbled to the surface. Peter wasn’t even countering my hits yet, he was only blocking, a look of shock on his features. This was too close. It was too familiar, reminded me so much of when I’d hit him in his apartment.

I could see every flake of green in his eyes, even the bits of gold, I could trace his scars and freckles, and smell his cologne mingling with sweat and blood. I could remember his freckles, and what he looked like with bed head, things I didn’t want to think about. There was a vague memory of his voice, breathy and weak, but I wasn’t entirely sure where  _that_ came from. This was just..too close, too too close. My brain was screaming danger, but not at the fist he finally struck out with.

My stomach was in knots, and I didn’t even notice, let alone have time to block, when he sent a quick jab at my face, causing sharp pain to flare through the bone beneath my right eye. I stepped back and threw my arms up, glowering at him. His lip was bleeding, so I must have busted it, but I hadn't even noticed. I watched, horrified, as his tongue slithered out to taste the wound, eyes never leaving mine. Peter smirked with teeth stained red, like he’d just learned something very interesting.

“So that's what gets you off, huh? Never would have pegged _you_ to be a sadist.”

The bastard.

Just like that we moved again, elbows and fists and knees jerking. It was clear my strikes didn’t hurt him nearly as much as his hurt me, but we were both tired from our previous fights. I just had to last longer. I wasn’t stupid enough to try and land a kick to Peter’s head like I’d done with Molly. Where she was passionate and violent, Peter was quick and calculating, to the extent of cruelty.

He’d seen me do it twice, it would be too obvious, and he was too smart to be tricked like that. Instead, I kicked from the opposite side and aimed lower, landing a blow to his rib cage with my shin. Peter buckled with a quiet “ _Oof_ ,” but grabbed my calf and pulled my leg to himself almost immediately, absorbing the strike and swinging me off kilter in the process. Pain flared up and down the leg, I’d forgotten about Eric twisting it earlier, but now it was pulsing like a drum.

For the third time today I landed on the mat, not nearly as hard as I had when Eric had put me there, but it startled me all the same. Peter learned quick, he was on top of me in seconds, but where Eric had sat on my stomach, he was straddling my waist. Rookie mistake. I twisted, ready to throw him off when his voice hissed down at me, husky and raw and wrong, wrong, _wrong_.

“You look so _damn_ hot when you hate me, Prior.”

It felt like he’d punched me in the stomach. I groaned, glaring up at him before I managed to finish what I’d started. I didn’t care what he had to say to me, or how it made my guts twist, he was a liar and a monster. I could remember only too well what he’d done to Edward, just for being better than him. Even if Peter didn't, _I_ remembered.

Peter’s eyes widened as I sent him teetering sideways, immediately wrapping my legs around his torso so that with just a little maneuvering I sat myself on his side, limbs locked in tight with his ribs pressing into my inner thigh. He growled, actually _growled_ at me, baring his teeth and all, his spit was bright red and oozed down his chin in a thick glob.

“Told you I’d beat you, Peter.” I all but snarled, feeling victorious. My muscles were burning with pain, but I’d beaten him, so it was worth it. That was, until he bucked his hips and spun around to unbalance me. Before I could defend myself, Peter’s hands were on my shoulders, slamming my back into the mat with a brutal amount of force. I had a vague thought that his fingertips would leave bruises.

Then I didn't think much of anything.

I landed with enough force onto the cushioned pad for there to be a loud _smack_ through the room, or maybe that was just in my head. My ears were ringing, so I couldn't be sure, because while my back _had_ hit the mat, my head had landed _hard_ on the floor.

It even bounced up high enough to come back down and strike the concrete a second time. The world felt as though everything had suddenly shifted off kilter, just slightly not right. Peter took the moment to pin my arms above my head, chuckling against the shell of my ear. His lips brushed the skin and his breath was too warm, fanning down my neck and making me squirm.

“I told _you_ that wasn't going to happen,”

I tried to get up, but _up_ was a difficult direction to understand, and there was a warm body pressing into me so maybe up wasn’t so great, anyway. Maybe moving wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Down felt pretty nice.

“Prior?” I was pretty sure that was Peter, but it sounded sort of fuzzy, and I couldn't concentrate when the room was spinning. Now _this_ sensation was sickeningly familiar. The voice from before spoke again, a little louder.

“Beatrice..Tris? Hey, eyes up here.”

I'd been staring off to the side, but when I looked up again Peter was hovering over me, I could hear footsteps booming from everywhere. I must have hit my head hard because it felt like Peter was cradling my cheek and that made no sense. The back of my head was pulsing like a drum, and that should have alarmed me, but all I could do was reach up and prod at the pinched skin between his brows.

“Stopit, you’re gonna..look like..”

“Woah hey no, eyes up here, Tris. I'm gonna look like what?”

Despite the command, the idea of staying awake any longer was just unbearable. My eyelids felt like they'd suddenly turned to lead, and besides, if Peter was telling me to stay awake, maybe it was in my best interest to do the opposite..right?

“Prob’ly just..wanna..hurt--”

My eyes fell shut and all I could focus on was the smell of sweat, and blood and..Peter. He was surrounding me - his voice and a few others, it was sort of comforting, but that was probably just the concussion talking.

I can’t say I remember a lot after that, just that things went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! So that was a roller coaster of events, sorry if it felt at all boring with all the detailed fighting (and I really hope that it felt easy to read and not at all ridiculous) but the next chapter will have a nice little surprise: Peter's perspective! 
> 
> So get ready for that. If everything goes according to plan I should have it up this time next week. As always I appreciate your support, feel free to comment, give me ideas or just tell me what you think is going to happen! There's a lot of interesting stuff in store.


	3. Appetence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Appetence
> 
> (n.) an eager desire, an instinctive inclination; an attraction or natural bond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! We're finally gonna get a look into Peter's warped little head, I want to personally thank [fuckup](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckup/works) for their absolutely fantastic portrayal of Peter and Co., I hope it's okay that I took inspiration from you in how they act - it's just so exactly like what I imagined of them that I couldn't bear to represent them in any other way. So thank you for that, also you guys should absolutely go check their stories out - so worth a read! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Pushing and using people for my own personal gain has always come naturally, it’s been a comfortable way of life for as long as I can remember. I know that sounds terrible, but it's entirely true. The simple fact of the matter is it's easier to achieve your goals when you set aside sentimentality, and understand that others were put on this earth to serve. Either you’re the one in command, or you’re the one doing the serving. Me personally, I’ve always worked to make sure I was in control of as many people as possible.

Prior was absolutely no exception to that. Within ten minutes of being in the same room as her, I’d decided I would hate her, and I _had_ hated her, it came as easily as breathing. She was smart and polite, driven, all while remaining infuriatingly, almost _disappointingly_ good. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find any one negative trait - unless you counted being pure as negative. Which I do.

It was easy to make her life hell, and the rush of exhilaration that came from turning her skin red with rage, or putting that twisted up scowl - that was in no way intimidating - on her face was just icing on the cake. I enjoyed it, and so did Molly and Drew. It made sense, felt right, and it was the natural order of things. Simple, routine.

So when I realized the full extent of how much I enjoyed making her mad, it raised some brows. I’d told both of them - argued, fought, even - that the routine _hadn’t_ changed when I started messing with her on a more personal level. “ _Flirting_ , is more like it,” Molly had scoffed at the time, but I’d brushed that off easily, “As if I could ever be that desperate. Don’t even joke like that,”

And then I’d blackmailed Prior into going to dinner with me. “It isn’t a real date,” I’d defended myself, “it’s just revenge for her making me look like an idiot in front of all of those tools from the college,”  and I’d meant it. I couldn’t just let that pass by unpunished - it would give the impression that someone as scrawny and weak as Beatrice fucking _Prior_ could stand up to me.

That just wouldn’t do.

It wasn’t _just_ dinner, anyway, the humiliation would come after, though that hadn’t been my original plan. They eventually believed me, and I convinced myself, too. Not that I needed convincing, not really. I still hated her guts, even when she’d called me up at three in the morning - all fire and rage - and I’d managed to twist her into a panting, hot mess by the end of it all with just my fucking _voice_.

Even then, it didn’t change things. The call didn’t mean anything, the stuff I’d said hadn’t, either. She didn’t remember my words, so what harm was there in my having had a little fun? At the time she'd been perfectly willing. My conscience was clean.

So what if I could barely even manage to come without thinking of the way she’d sounded, saying my name? Moaning It, more aptly. It wasn’t because _she’d_ called my name, I told myself in an almost mantra, because it _wasn't_. My response was just the afterglow of having anyone so under my control, through something so trivial as a phone call. The power trip was what turned me on, not her. Anyone else would have triggered the same response in me.

Even if I _had_ temporarily thought I’d felt something, that had been a mistake, and she’d ignored my messages after I’d repaid her for my own humiliation, so feeling anything _but_ hate wasn’t an option. It didn’t fit in with my checks and balances, of being in control. So no. I didn’t feel anything for that underdeveloped goody goody.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I felt a lot of hatred for her, a strong need to crush her beneath my shoes, and put her in her place..and if I happened to get her into bed in the process, it would only be to break her fully. That was the extent of it, though.

So, when she had me pinned to a mat in front of everyone and started _gloating,_ I couldn’t be held responsible for my actions. She was asking to be knocked down a few pegs; I wouldn't allow her to think she could go around asserting dominance like that.

Not in front of someone as important as Eric fucking Coulter.

I hadn’t meant to hurt her, not so severely, anyway. Mostly I'd wanted to spook her. As much as I’d dreamed of my fingers around her throat - of leaving bruises for everyone to see, and knowing that each twinge of pain would remind her of my power, of _me_ \- I didn’t want her _dead_. Or, you know, brain dead. So when she’d gone down, and I’d managed to pin her arms, it only took a few seconds for me to realize that I’d seriously miscalculated.

Prior would never have just let me pin her without some kind of fight, even a futile one. I’d been expecting her to come back at me with bared teeth and murder in her eyes, like earlier. Hoped for it, even, if I was being honest. It would make the victory even sweeter. That didn’t happen; I felt my stomach drop.

Somewhere in the back of my head I knew I’d heard a fairly nasty _thunk_ when I’d taken her down, but I’d assumed she had just hit the mat hard. Now, though, I noticed that her head was hanging over the side of it. She was murmuring, eyes half lidded and gaze far away, and none of those were good signs at all.

The panic that seized me then had absolutely nothing to do with concern for her well-being. It was entirely built from my fear of being removed from the program for causing severe bodily harm to a fellow recruit.

I needed her to be okay, for my career. For the plans I’d been making since as long as I could remember. For me, for Drew and Molly, she had to be alright. So the words that gushed out of me were borne of that panic, nothing more, nothing less. I’d goaded her into looking at me, and when she did, my chest tightened.

For a moment, as she gaped up at me, confused and dazed, I was reminded of her sleepily drunk in the passenger seat of my car, smiling up at me from inside my suit jacket. She’d been not so subtly inhaling my cologne, and I had tried not to enjoy that fact, or the way she looked at me then. People just didn’t smile at me, not like she was, - actually, Prior didn’t smile like that, ever - and it was entirely the alcohol, but I’d felt..something, then.

I was feeling it again at the sight of her injured, like I’d been hit in the gut, and was going to be sick. I hated it, and it made me hate her even more than I already did. How dare she do this to me?

Still, somehow, my hands wound up cupping her face, and I kept trying to talk to her, even as people rushed over and she murmured under her breath, quiet enough that I had a hard time hearing it. When I did, I felt like someone had doused me in ice water.

“Prob’ly just..wanna..hurt--”  _me again._ It didn’t take a genius to work that one out. Is that what she thought of me?

Her words caught me off guard, enough that I didn’t even hear the sound of imminent danger until I was knocked roughly off of Prior and went rolling, pain burning in my cheek. My eyes snapped up to the person responsible, and I froze. Any thoughts of getting up and defending myself, attacking them for getting in a cheap shot like that, all went out the window.

Officer Coulter was staring me down with barely contained rage - which, I had probably earned, but still felt a little dramatic. I’d pegged him as the kind of guy that lived to see recruits beat the shit out of one another. Maybe he even got off to it.

“The goal isn’t to kill your opponent, Hayes.” I expected him to yell, but his voice was eerily calm, and that was so much worse than any screaming could ever dream to be. I backpedaled, putting a hand up as though the gesture might placate him. It was a sign of weakness and I hated it.

“I didn’t know we were so close to the edge of the mat, I swear.” Even to my ears that sounded like a pitiful excuse, I could have pinned her without so much force, I’d just gotten so _angry_. Usually I could control that, but when she was concerned it was hard; people usually obeyed me, or at least stayed out of my way, but not her. No. She always had to fight, to challenge, and it made my blood boil like nothing else.

Eric stormed closer, squatting in front of me and smacking my hand out of the air. A faint twitch of his brow was the only visible shift of emotion on his face, everything else was cold, calculated and cruel. I swallowed hard, trying to school my features into a calm, relaxed expression like his. I didn’t need a mirror to know I hadn’t quite pulled it off, but I felt like I was pretty close.

“I watched you fighting the last girl, Hayes, you’re not fooling me, you sadistic little shit.” I wanted to say something about the manic way he’d been watching all the fights, about how much he seemed to enjoy watching me hurt people, or just people hurting one another, but that didn’t feel like a wise move. Even if this was clearly the pot calling the kettle black.

“If she’s got any lasting damage, you can kiss your chances of being anything more than a damn _janitor_ goodbye, you got me?”

There was a nasty feeling roaring in my chest, almost like jealousy, but I couldn’t understand why that would be the response to his words. Well, I could, but I wasn’t touching _that_ train of thought with a ten foot pole, thank you very much. So I settled on anger instead. Anger made the most sense, it didn’t have to be complicated, just raw.

How dare he threaten my livelihood like that over someone as inconsequential as _her?_ How dare he sit - squat - there and act like he could protect her, that she needed protection from me?

“You seem awfully concerned, Sir. I get, though. It’d be pretty terrible to ruin someone so pretty before you get the chance to, huh?”

I didn’t have even a moment to regret my words before there was agony shooting through my sinuses, and across the bridge of my nose. It was a seeping, tingling kind of pain. I felt hot blood ooze a quick path down my chin, and if the crack I’d heard was any kind of indicator, he’d broken my nose for sure. The son of a bitch. I cried out through my teeth, cupping my nose as gingerly as I could manage, but I could already feel blood pooling against the heel of my hand.

No one came to my aid, but then, I hadn’t exactly expected them to. Just because Molly and Drew were the closest thing I had to friends didn’t mean either of them were idiotic enough to get themselves - or in Molly’s case, get herself even _more_ \- on the bad side of Coulter. Not when I'd screwed up and earned his disapproval so soon and so severely.

“If you’re smart, you’ll learn to keep that mouth of yours shut, it’s gonna get you into more trouble than you can imagine.” He hadn’t argued with what I said, and that made that same hot, angry feeling tear up into my chest and threaten to escape out of my throat. Something horrifyingly possessive was responding in a visceral way to the thought of anyone else breaking her. That was my job, she was _mine_ to destroy - and fuck was that a train of thought I needed to derail. Fast.

I swallowed down my rage, slowly, letting it fester and grow. It wasn’t smart to challenge him now - when I wasn’t in danger of being poorly ranked, then I might go after him - I needed to ease back and wait for someone else to screw up so he’d forget about my mistake.

“Of course, sir.”

I smiled wide, feeling none of the confidence that laced itself through my voice, even as the taste of copper threatened to choke me, and the smile pulled at my busted lip. Eric looked like he was considering hitting me again when there was a soft groan from behind him, I hated that I knew it was her, and I hated even more how relieved I was to hear that she was coming back around.

It was just for my career, for maybe not losing a shot at the top, not because her health meant anything to me. I wasn't worried about _her_. Maybe I’d even get lucky and she’d drop out of the academy all together.

I’d always been a good liar, one of the best, but I wasn’t believing my own bullshit, and that scared me.

Coulter dropped his hold on my shirt, causing me to fall back to the floor, I hadn’t even realized I’d been lifted by him until that point. Only when he’d turned his back, and started walking towards Tri-- _Prior's_ body, did Drew and Molly come over to me. I guess I deserved the smirk on her face and the silent judgement oozing off of him. I had a lot of lying to do.

As I wrenched myself up to my feet and dusted off my shirt, I noticed Eric squat by her body. He cradled her head, picking her up like he was lifting a pile of clothes. The monster in my chest was getting close to escaping, especially when her pale arms draped themselves around his neck and she whimpered in pain. The sound was too close to the ones she made over the phone.

He turned to face the room, the usually headstrong girl in his arms seeming every bit the little kid I’d always told her she was. I didn’t like that, as much as I’d enjoyed the idea of her being submissive and weak for everyone to see, now that the moment had arrived I only felt a sick, cold twist in my stomach.

My fingers itched to take her from him, which only made my blood boil. Why couldn’t I just hate her properly? I enjoyed the weakness I’d caused in her before, the victory I’d won, but it was soured by concern. Damn it. Molly gently bumped my shoulder, but didn’t say anything. It didn’t bring me any comfort.

“The fights will resume, I’m taking Prior to the medical wing to get her head checked, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t still being tested,” Eric boomed, causing her face to crumple into a wince. She still wasn’t quite awake in his arms, her eyes were fluttering behind closed lids, but apparently the sound of his voice was enough to startle her, because they snapped open and even from across the room it wasn’t hard to recognize the look I found there.

She was terrified, peering up at Eric as he held her to his chest, looking for all the world like she’d rather be anywhere else then. He kept talking, as though unaware of the girl in his arms or just how much she didn’t want to be there. That made me feel a little better, but Eric’s next words took the feeling away immediately.

“Hayes, you’re disqualified from today’s fights, Four - remove him from the roster.” I couldn’t even argue, or complain, because after that he’d turned on his heel and left. Prior’s fingers were tightly balled in the back of his shirt, which just made me feel more sick than I already did. Across the room I watched as the quiet trainer of the other group erased my name, a sinking feeling pulling at my heart.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted my trainer with Christina and curled my lip. She looked somewhere between tears and violent rage - more so the second one when her eyes met mine. I was in no way afraid of her, but I _was_ afraid of getting a reputation for being up girls, so I looked away and gave her a small victory.

With Eric out of the room everything picked back up again like it hadn’t happened. Well, other than the nasty looks I was getting, but I felt the familiar press of shoulders, one that was near my own height, the other closer to my elbow, and that helped ease my discomfort. Not that I’d ever admit to that. Neither of them said anything, but they didn’t really have to.

 

* * *

 

 

The three of us disappeared out of the training room the moment we were dismissed, all the while I worked to get the feeling to return to my fingertips. I hadn’t even realized that my breaths were coming in shallow until Molly was standing in front of me, eyes narrowed just slightly. It wasn’t like her to push when I was in this bad of a mood, but I couldn’t find it in me to fight, so I just stopped. I still hadn’t even dealt with the blood on my face or my throbbing nose.

I’d need to have that reset and hope it didn’t heal crooked.

“You ready to admit you don’t hate her yet?” Came Molly’s voice, high and demanding. It had a trace of jealousy, but it usually did when other people outside of the three of us were involved. I groaned, walking without thinking, I needed a breath of fresh air, or a doctor. Probably both.

“No, I’m not,” I grunted, not enjoying the flares of pain in my head when I accidentally breathed through my nose, “I do hate her, but I could have just cost myself a career, how’s it going to look that I brained a girl _half_ my size on the first day?”

Drew remained passively silent, the way he was good at. My breathing was still too quick, it felt too much like someone had their hand in my chest, squeezing my heart harder and harder with each passing moment. There were these flashes of Prior in my car, and of her unconscious on the training room floor, neither were helping to calm me down. There were too many implications for either of those scenarios - and what if I’d actually hurt her?

I found myself imagining what it might be like, not passing snark between one another, not making her skin flush or her eyes flare with rage. My pulse was roaring in my head, this wasn’t guilt, it wasn’t, I didn’t care what happened to her. Not one bit.

I heard footsteps behind us and turned, ready to jump on the idiot within range of my fists. I needed to hit someone. Before I could do that, though, there were a pair of hands shoving my chest hard enough to slam me into the closest wall. It didn’t exactly hurt, but the jarring didn’t do my nose any favors.

Christina was glaring up at me, hands still pressed to my chest, and I had yet to move them. I needed to stop letting these small, useless people push me around, it was starting to look bad. Molly and Drew watched like the absolute asses they were. I could just see a smirk on Molly’s mouth, and yeah, I probably deserved that.

“What the _fuck_ is your problem, you creep?!”

“Says the girl who’s got me up against a wall, what is it, Christina? Is Will not man enough for you, wanna give someone with a little more spine a tr--”

Her first met my nose and I couldn’t have bit down the yell that escaped me even if I’d had time to prepare. The blood I’d finally stanched earlier started flowing again, and I cupped my face with one hand, shoving Christina backwards as hard as possible with the other. She stumbled, and would have caught herself if Drew hadn’t extended his leg at just the right time, sending her sprawling backwards.

_“Bitch!”_

From the look on her face it hurt. Good. My face was a mess of blood, again, and the pain was enough to make me feel weak on my feet. If my nose wasn’t broken before, it definitely was, now. Molly glanced at me in a silent question, to which I nodded. She drew a foot back and crushed Christina’s fingers beneath it mercilessly, not saying a word as the girl on the floor wailed and pulled at her trapped appendage, but the foot holding it there was solid. Even when Christina punched Molly’s calf, it did nothing to dissuade her.

I took the opportunity to squat in front of her, though for some reason that made the pain pulsing in my sinuses so much worse. The back of my hand swiped beneath my nose, smearing blood across it and my face in the process. She glared up at me, drawing her free arm back, but I managed to catch her before she could hit me this time. I hated how dull and stuffy my voice sounded coming out,

“The hand makes us even, though if you come at me again, I’ll have to break _your_ nose in return. I don’t know who you and your little friend think you are, but you don’t get to just come at me like I’m not going to put you in your place--”

Christina spit at me, actually _spit_ , and it hit my cheek with an unpleasant wet warmth entirely different from the blood already coating my chin. I took a breath before Molly ground her heel a little harder, threatening to break the girl’s fingers. She whimpered then, eyes slitted.

“You’re such a fucking psychopath - you  _all_ are! - I don’t know what your problem with Tris is, but you better leave her alone. She’s way too good for someone like you.”

I found myself tutting, brows raised despite the pain that blossomed from the movement, “You’re not really in any place to be threatening me, or anyone, really. So here’s what you’re going to do, Molly here is going to move her foot, I’m going to let go of you, and you’re going to limp your pathetic ass back the way you came - and if you feel the need to act tough again, remember that we were nice enough not to break your fingers. This time.”

To her credit, Christina didn’t look scared, shaken maybe, in pain, sure, but not scared. She hated me, which didn’t bring me near as much pleasure as it did when Prior did it, but I didn’t want to think about the why’s or how’s involved in that. Without thinking about it, I rubbed my chin, feeling the tacky, slowly drying blood there, and chuckled.

“She’s not as good as you think, just ask your buddy Al.”

I let go of her then, rising to my feet and doing what I could to keep the look of control on my face. Everything hurt and all I wanted was to lie down, but it was important not to let her know how much agony I was in. The last thing I needed was for her to walk away thinking she’d caused any lasting damage, after all.

I nodded towards Molly and she gave her foot a last, hard twist that made Christina yelp before lifting it entirely, and taking a few steps back. Finally free, she jerked to her feet, letting her hand hang by her side, which I had to give her some silent praise for. It had to be throbbing, but she didn’t touch it, didn’t even look at it. Instead she shot me a narrow eyed look and backed up.

Smart girl. She never turned her back to us, but she still managed to walk in a strong, determined sort of way. I had to appreciate that she didn’t limp or go meekly, but it pissed me off all the same. I wanted her weak and broken, not confident. Confidence needed to be eradicated in people like her, or they’d go around getting ideas that they could take me on, and I didn’t need that sort of irritation in my life.

Once Christina disappeared around the corner, Molly crossed her arms over her chest while  Drew awkwardly stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. He had a dark bruise forming on his left cheekbone that I hadn’t noticed before, and Molly’s temple was already a soft shade of purple, the blood just beginning to pool to the surface. We started walking again, shoulder to shoulder to shoulder, and as I figured, it didn’t take long for the arguing to start up again.

“Don’t think we’re done talking just because you broke your nose, Peter,” Molly grunted, sounding for all the world like she wasn’t desperately eager to try and prove I was going soft, or whatever it was she hoped to gain from being right. I doubted she actually _wanted_ to be, though, because those implications meant things were changing, and none of us much cared for change.

“For fuck’s sake, Mol,” I pressed my fingers to my forehead and puffed out a short breath, now that the distraction of Christina was gone, my pain was flaring back up again and it was irritating to try and ignore it while also defending myself against one of my two best friends. Both of them, technically, even if Drew’s accusation was quieter and more to do with long suffering looks.

“She’s got a point,” He muttered, running a hand through his hair and having the decency to look surprised at the words that left his mouth, like he hadn’t wholly expected to say them anywhere other than inside his own head. I groaned and closed my eyes for a moment, navigating the halls of the academy while trying to remember exactly how to get to the med wing.

“There’s only so many ways I can tell you that things haven’t changed. I don’t feel anything for that little twit, and you’re far too tough to be trying to throw puppy eyes at me, Molly. Have some self respect,” That made her lips pull back into a grimace of a snarl. I laughed, then cringed at the pain. This nose business needed to be dealt with quickly, it was affecting my ability to snark properly, and I couldn’t have that.

“Peter,” She drawled in a condescending tone laced with sarcasm, “you’re a better liar than that. Don’t try to distract me with insults, it’s _unbecoming_ of you,” Drew didn’t try to hide his laugh, but my ears burned all the same. It was only fair that she called me out, I was probably being dishonest.

“I don’t get why you’re rooting for me to be wrong - I hate her, you hate her, let’s just keep it that way, huh?”

“Except,” Drew’s voice chimed in, quiet and pensive as always, “You don’t hate her,”

Points for guts. I sighed, deep and long suffering, before spotting a sign to my right indicating the med wing entrance just up the hall and to the left. Molly must have sensed that I was every bit willing to escape this conversation by picking up the pace, and she followed suit, even daring to jog a few feet so that she could stand in front of me, hip jutted out and arms crossed again. Not in a sulky, pouting way, more of an immovable, stubborn way. That was more like her, I approved silently.

“My nose fucking kills, Molly, can you just get off my back for like, half an hour so I can get it reset and get some damn peace and quiet?”

“You need to work on your priorities, Peter. Prior is fucking you up, and you fucking up is going to ruin our plans.”

I didn’t plan on it, but somewhere between her saying my name and accusing me of ruining plans, I pinned Molly to the wall by her throat with my forearm. She didn’t look concerned, or even worried really, just vaguely surprised. Her arms dropped to her sides as I squeezed, not hard enough to fully constrict her air, but enough to give a warning. I didn’t miss the way her eyes drifted to the blood drying on my face in some unspoken challenge.

“Listen to me, carefully. I want that future just as badly as you or Drew, and if you keep getting in my face with this bullshit about Prior, I’m gonna need to consider not involving you in those plans, because as far as I can tell you’re just looking for a fight. Save it for training, Molly.”

She glared at me, raising a hand to grip my wrist and squeeze, hard enough for pain to flare there, but I didn’t let up, not yet.

“Peter,” Drew’s tone was a warning, but I didn’t need it, I could hear footsteps without his help. Before whoever the clunking steps belonged to could turn the corner, I’d drawn back a few feet and brushed away flakes of imaginary dust from my shirt with a sigh.

“You need to trust me, Molly. I’m in control,”

“You didn’t look very in control in the training room.”

I didn’t have a response to that, so I chose to turn and walk towards the hall that would lead me to the med bay. A few men and women in uniform rounded the corner and regarded me with almost no recognition what so ever as they passed, other than a snort or two and a muttered _“recruits,”_ that I imagined was meant to be endearing, but only served to make me angry.

It didn’t occur to me until I’d already entered the clinically clean area that I might run into Eric here, or I might see Prior, until I spotted her across the room sitting on an uncomfortable looking bed with her head against a pillow. Her hair was down, and just like I’d thought when I'd seen her earlier, it was definitely shorter. The cut suited her, matured her face a bit. Her eyes were closed, and her hands were folded on her lap, for all I knew she could have been dead, were it not for the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders.

“Can I help you?”

Stormy eyes opened at the soft voice of a nurse addressing me, and Prior’s gaze locked onto mine for a long moment. There wasn’t hate in her expression, just confusion, which wasn’t what I expected at all. She looked from my eyes to the blood on my face, then my split lip. I couldn’t stop myself from smirking, even as the pull of it tore at the cut she'd given me, and I could feel fresh blood beading to the surface. Without hesitating I drew my tongue down and swiped away the blood slowly, purposefully, like I’d done when we were fighting.

Even if I was sick to death of the taste of copper, she turned red to her ears and looked away, and that was a victory I savored all the way up until the nurse reset my nose.

 

* * *

 

When the blood had been cleaned, and I was cleared with nothing more than two white pills for the pain - taken with water that tasted more like chlorine than was probably strictly healthy - I found myself drawn back towards the bed I’d seen Prior on earlier.

Like before, she was resting, with her eyes closed, and I took a moment to inventory all the minor bruises on her face and arms; there was a small cut just at the edge of her eyebrow, and while it wasn’t split, her lower lip was definitely swollen. Aside from those, she had an army of purplish blossoms on her shoulders and face. Probably more under the thick strapped tank top she wore.

Anyone else might have been horrified at the damage, worried for her, but all I felt was a hot wave of arousal at knowing I'd done a lot of that. I'd marked her, and she was strong enough to take it. She’d remember me with each twist and stab of pain, and she’d probably come back for more.

“What do you want, Peter?” She snapped, eyes still closed, and I was a little surprised to hear the exhaustion in her voice. The fight just wasn’t there, and it bothered me in a way I didn’t want to think about, itched even. Her eyes opened finally, and while she definitely looked annoyed, she also looked like she might fall asleep again at any moment.

What _did_ I want? Was I here to gloat about beating her, apologize for my unnecessary violence?

“It’s just a mild concussion, not that I think you’re capable of feeling guilty or anything.” She was looking at me strangely, almost as though she was afraid of me, and that felt a little like I’d swallowed a handful of ice cubes. I looked away, and rubbed the back of my neck with what I hoped was a confident chuckle. It sounded more awkward than anything.

“I owe you, for the head injury, I mean. So..when you’re feeling better, I mean, you can..” I paused, trying to decide in my head what put us back on the same level. How far did the damage need to go for her to pay me back?

“I guess..break my hand, or bang my head up against a wall or something. Whatever works for you, makes us even.” I shrugged, and she looked at me like I was crazy, which..I probably was, but she didn’t need to know it.

“You owe me for a lot more than a concussion.”

“There she is,” I couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at my lips, even if it hurt, maybe it was better that it did. I don’t know why I did it, but I sat in the chair beside her bed, feeling a twinge of discomfort when she visibly shifted a few inches to the left to get further away from me.

Of course she wouldn’t want to be near me.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,”

Even I wasn’t sure if I meant her head, or the night we’d humiliated her. Twice, technically. Whatever soft, tired look had been on her face before, it was dried up now in favor of anger. My fingers twitched, itching to touch her bruises, to press on them and hear her painful intakes of breath. It startled me that I _wanted_ to crush her mouth, paint her in my blood.

That wasn’t an emotional response, I told myself, it was just a physical need. Even if I didn’t necessarily feel that way about Molly, or Drew, or..well, anyone that I knew of, that didn’t mean anything. Clearly I just had a kink for scrawny blond girls or something.

“Leave,”

Instead of doing that, I got to my feet, hovering closer to her bed, and my fingers circled one of her wrists. This time there was no denying it - she looked frightened, which didn’t add up, she’d never been afraid of me before, but maybe it wasn’t _me_ she was afraid of. Or maybe it was, and my nearly breaking her skull just cemented that I was dangerous to her. I wanted her to be afraid of me just as much as I didn’t.

“No,” I leaned in so that our breath was mingling together, drinking her and the charged air between us in. Which was something I’d compartmentalize later, but at the moment I simply enjoyed. I couldn’t outright claim her mouth, as much as I wanted to, but I _could_ invade her personal space a little longer.

“Peter,” She warned, her lips quivering, “get out.” Even if I wasn’t good at reading people, I could tell you she didn’t fully mean it. I leaned further into her then, catching her other wrist and hovering over her so that my mouth was inches from the shell of her ear. Both wrists were pinned by her head now, a bit like they’d been just an hour or so ago, except this time she was awake. This time she could struggle - and she was. I savored each wince of pain or discomfort she tried to hide from me.

From here I could feel her body trembling, and it was intoxicating. Thoughts came unbidden of my name on her lips in a breathy moan - I barely managed to contain the groan in my throat at the memory. That thought went straight to my dick without any permission from the rest of me.

“Say it like you mean it,” I whispered, letting my lips brush her skin, and she smelled good, _so_ good. Like blood, and sweat. Something in my head was blaring at me to step off, to laugh and shoot an insult her way, but I was still hovering, and her breath was still coming in short puffs. We both knew she could draw her leg up, or twist herself to get out from under me if she really wanted. I wasn’t holding on _that_ tight.

We were both here on purpose.

“G-get out.” Again it was breathy, unconvincing. I dragged the tip of my nose along her jawline, hesitating in front of her face with almost no space between us. If she wanted to lean up, I wouldn’t be able to stop it, but she didn’t. Of course she didn’t. Prior swallowed hard, staring into my eyes with a cloud of mixed emotions. It felt like my heart was crawling out of my chest, but got lodged in my throat on the way. I needed to get out of here, this had gone far enough.

Too far.

“You sure about that?” Our lips didn’t meet, but they did brush, and it set me on fire in ways I didn’t want to think about. My fingertips tingled and I was so, _so_ close, not even a hair’s breadth from her mouth. She nodded, causing her upper lip to just ghost my lower one, and I sucked in a sharp breath. Without waiting another second through this torture, I pulled back, releasing her in the process and nearly tripping over the chair I’d been sitting in. I felt drunk.

I heard her let out a breath and felt accomplished in knowing I was the one who made her hold it.

Prior was flushed, her pupils blown wide, shoulders rising and falling rapidly. This, I thought absently, was what she might have looked like that night at the Pit, tucked up against the wall with my voice in her ear. Were she anyone else, I might have assumed she looked disappointed that I’d moved away, but she was probably just disappointed she hadn’t hurt me.

If I didn’t leave _right now_ , I knew I would do something stupid, something I couldn’t take back. So I straightened up, and took a deep breath, which only hurt half as bad as it had earlier.

“You decide what you want from me, Prior..as payback. I’ll be waiting.” If I sounded choked, that was just because of my injuries. That I could explain away, but the aching hard on in my pants was a different story altogether. Prior swallowed hard, and seemed to come back to herself, eyes narrowed and mouth set into a frown.

“I’ll think about it.” The breathy sound of her voice was just another victory to add to the list. I turned to leave, but before I even made it a few feet she’d called my name, so I had to turn back to look at her, brows raised.

_“Except, you don't hate her.”_

“Who broke your nose?” I scowled, then, turning away from her. I’d forgotten about Eric until then, his warning. It was easier to be angry, suddenly.

“Officer Coulter,”

She didn’t say anything else, so I didn’t, either. Any traces of arousal were definitely gone now, replaced with irritation. I thought about how close I’d been to kissing her as I left, and frowned. It was beyond time to stop lying to myself, but just because I could admit she was attractive didn’t mean I cared about her in any way. There _was_ a fact I couldn’t deny anymore, though.

I wanted Tris Prior, and when I want something, I get it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was a roller coaster :P 
> 
> So we've got a little progress now, at least we're past the "I hate you please die" stage, I guess? I'm not sure I'll be writing any more from Peter's perspective, but who knows? Feel free to leave any suggestions or predictions in the comments, I'd love to hear from you guys! Thanks as always for reading and sticking with me through this.


	4. Entelechy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entelechy
> 
> (n.) The realization of potential

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was just a little behind on posting this one, sorry, guys! And I'm not entirely sure when the next chapter will be up, I'm about to start a seven day work week so I'm not sure I'll have time to work on writing until that's done and over with, but I'll absolutely try!
> 
> I didn't want to repeat the previous chapter in a monotonous kinda way because that's one of my biggest pet peeves when you switch the points of view, so I tried to skim through it without missing the details that are important, I hope you all like it.

Waking up to the boom of Eric’s voice wasn’t what I would have called an ideal situation, but if you paired that with a -  _ Eric’s _ \- warm chest pressing in on me while solid arms held me firmly in place, that was what I would safely call a nightmare scenario. It was bad enough that I was being held like a doll, for all the recruits to see, on day one. I couldn’t even walk out of the training room on my own, no, I had to be  _ carried _ , and if that wasn’t the absolute worst first impression anyone had ever given, then I couldn’t imagine what was.

There was a dull aching through my skull that made me queasy, and I suspected that if I  _ were _ to stand on my own two feet, I would likely empty the meager contents of my stomach. My horror at the proximity of Eric ebbed into confusion as I heard him call for Peter to be disqualified- for..unnecessary violence? Well. Things really were different around here. I didn’t know how to feel about that; I wanted to be pleased, but it didn’t sit right. Peter had beaten me, while maybe not precisely  _ fairly, _ it was a win all the same. 

I didn’t feel sorry for him, though, the pain pulsing through my veins in a constant tattoo was too much to just go around feeling pity for the one who caused it. He’d looked surprised, if my memory was accurate, so he hadn’t  _ meant _ to crack my head on the ground, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d done it. Plus, it was  _ Peter. _

I groaned in agony when Eric started walking, each step sent fresh flares of pain licking at my skull like fire. Without meaning to, my fist coiled itself into the back of his uniform, and I silently prayed that he might need to iron out the wrinkles I put there. It didn’t take a lot to get over the terror of being held by someone as intimidating as Eric, surprisingly, pain took precedence. It was my entire world as we exited the training room to the sound of fights resuming. My eyes drooped a bit, they were too heavy to keep open, but he seemed to take notice because I heard Eric’s voice bark down at me.

“Hey, no. Eyes open, Prior. It’s bad enough you were out before, you need to stay awake.” 

His tone was clinical and demanding, it didn’t have anything particularly cruel or twisted in it, and I had to remind myself that there weren’t any dangerous edges he could hang me over here. This wasn’t Dauntless, this was the academy, and I was a  _ recruit _ he was responsible for. I needed to relax, but that was hard to do when I could glance up and see his face full of piercings. He wasn’t smiling, so the holes weren’t stretched, but the sight brought back memories of knives flying at my head all the same.

I glared at the silver rings in his lower lip, focusing all of my energy into tracking the way light bounced off of them as an anchor to keep me conscious. Eric looked down, but I couldn’t concentrate enough to take notes on his expression, so I didn’t even try.

“You took quite a beating back there, I’m impressed you stayed on your feet as long as you did.” 

Was that praise? I swallowed hard and tried to remember how to speak, my tongue didn’t seem to be with the whole  _ functioning human being _ program. It wanted to lay flat against the roof of my mouth, but finally I cleared my throat. Even that made a shudder pass through me; the pain was like water, smacking into me and threatening to take my breath.

“Still went down, though,” I grunted out, to which he laughed. That was a strange noise - it wasn’t filled to the brim with callous cruelty at someone’s expense, just genuine laughter. It reminded me of how young he really was, - as well as Four,  _ and _ Zeke - they couldn’t have been more than two years older than I was. Twenty two, I had to remind myself, not eighteen. I wasn’t sixteen. Mixing my two worlds was hard enough when I had control of my cognitive functions, but right then it was like pulling teeth.

“I like that you’re driven, but you should consider being a little less harsh on yourself. You can’t win the war if you get caught up on every battle.” That was weirdly nice of him. I wondered vaguely if this was what Eric could have been like if he hadn’t gone through the harsh training of Dauntless. He was still cruel, I’d seen it in the way he watched fights, but right now he was acting like a real mentor might. I tried not to let myself trust it - he probably just wanted something.

Something that involved me believing he was a nice, normal guy.

I wanted to argue, or say anything, really, but it was too hard to concentrate. Already I felt a roaring headache pushing itself up against my skull, crawling down along my spine and threatening to tear me in half. I heard a door open and someone asking Eric about my injuries, but I tuned them out. A few times Eric caught me nearly dozing and patted my face, commanding me to wake up.

I floated somewhere between consciousness and sleep, without fully grasping either. There was a vague memory of being told to hold still, of a bright screen scanning my skull,  people talking in technical terms that I didn't quite comprehend, but the most prominent memory for me was being told that I could finally sleep. 

“See here? The swelling is minimal.”

“Good enough. Get some rest, then,”

So I did.

* * *

 

I’m leaning in, listening to hushed voices - they’re talking about Divergents, about  _ hunting _ them. It’s..Eric, that much I’m sure of, but I don’t know who the woman talking to him is. The scene gives me anxiety, like I know something terrible is going to happen. Like always, my surroundings are nothing but white. When I feel someone grab at me from behind, I instinctively open my mouth to scream, but there’s a hand over my mouth, clamped down tight, and I feel sick with dread. A strong soap invades my senses.

I know the smell, but I don’t know why I know it, and I do all I can think of given that the person holding me is too big to break away from. I bite their finger, causing them to yelp in pain. Someone - no,  _ Peter. _ I’d know his tone anywhere, high and authoritative and stern - is telling the owner of the hand to shut me up, to keep me  _ quiet _ . Oh God.

What little I’m able to see in the dark is completely eradicated when someone wraps a cloth around my eyes, tight and uncomfortable. I know there’s a third person now because Peter is clearly standing in front of me and the hands on my torso and mouth haven’t moved, so the third one must be guilty of blindfolding me. I’m filled with rage and fear - screaming until my vocal chords ache, but the sounds come out as little more than muffled grunts as the hand over my mouth does its job.

“Wonder what it sounds like when a Stiff begs for mercy,” Peter’s words fill me with a swirl of fear and panic, he chuckles darkly, and I know he means it. “Hurry up.”

Something inside of me roots out the easiest problem to tackle, and even though part of me knows, this version of myself hasn’t quite come to the conclusion yet. The realization that Al is the one holding me in an iron vice, he’s the one being ordered around, hit me like a ton of bricks.

Regardless of the fact that I knew this already, I’d  _ lived _ this already, it made me want to curl in on myself and disappear. I'd forgotten, so the betrayal was fresh and painful. Al was a lot of things, but cruel wasn’t one of those. How could he work with Peter against me like this?

Before I can focus on anything else, I hear water, and I know without a doubt - just like I know I clearly don’t die here - that it’s the chasm. My screams die in my throat. I try to fight the panic of my dream - my  _ memory _ \- but it’s impossible when I feel my chest tightening, knowing what they plan to do to me.

“Lift her up, c’mon,” 

My screams are swallowed by Al’s cupped hand, my twisting and kicking gain nothing, but I still do both. My breath disappears as my back is smashed hard into a metal bar, into the railing around the chasm, and just like that, the panic comes flooding in, threatening to drown me long before the rushing water below will ever get the chance.

Without my permission, my back is arched over the rail, pain tingling up and down my spine at the angle, and the cold metal grinding into my flesh. My feet leave the ground, and just like that, Peter, Al, and the third attacker are the only thing keeping me from tipping over entirely. Not for long, though.

Then the worst comes. I feel a hot hand against my collarbones, I hear Peter’s snide voice, “You sure you’re sixteen, Stiff? Doesn’t feel like you’re more than twelve,” Someone laughs with him and I feel cold. That laugh is impossible to miss - it’s Drew. I don’t know why that surprises me. I whimper when his hand finally cups my breast, and feel like I’m going to throw up - this isn’t right, it’s not okay. Not like this.

“Wait, I think I found something!”

I don’t scream that time. Al comes to my defense, ever the knight, his hand leaves my mouth and I feel Peter let go as he demands for him to stop. I take my chance and scream, thrashing and fighting until my body hits the ground again. It’s nice to feel secure, but I don’t waste any time, I grip the closest forearm and bear my teeth into the hunk of meat, biting until copper fills my mouth and screams flood my ears. Good.

It’s Peter. I hope it leaves a scar.

Somewhere in the mix of things my head hits the railing and everything spins. This is a familiar feeling, pain and adrenaline, and a tilt of the world, but I can’t even grasp it as I’m ripping the blindfold from my eyes, as though it will matter. Everything besides Peter is white, Al is gone, and I can’t see Drew. 

What I  _ can _ see is Peter’s rage - his face is purple with it and his teeth are grinding together as he wraps a hand around my throat, and for the second time, my feet leave the ground. I wheeze for breath. The only thing I can notice is that his hair is damp, sticking to his skin, it’s something I’ve never seen. I hate that I appreciate it. My lungs burn, and black spots dot the whiteness around us. He holds me over the chasm, and I can’t even kick him, - my legs fall just short of the target - what strikes me more than anything is the utter silence from Peter.

He’s looking at me like I’m some creature that crawled out of a hole, like I’ve insulted him personally by existing, and maybe I have. Just when it’s too much, when I think I’ll pass out, I hear a muffled sound and my body hits the railing. As my arms cling to the metal bar for life, I feel myself drifting.

* * *

 

I woke up screaming. 

There was a startled nurse to my left, both of her hands in the air, like she was surrendering, and I realized that she must have been hunched over me, until I’d woken up. There was a needle in her grip, and she looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. I couldn’t have agreed with her more.

Even in the waking world, I could feel Peter’s thumb against the soft skin beneath my chin, his fingers coiling around my throat and squeezing my life from me. The flesh tingled with phantom pain. I knew he wasn’t a good person, I  _ knew _ that, but I hadn’t prepared for just how terrible he really was. He’d tried to _ kill _ me. Al, too. How was I supposed to face him? Either of them?

I leaned back against the uncomfortable hospital bed, every muscle coiled tight. The nurse had lowered her arms, but she still hadn’t touched me, or spoken. I couldn’t exactly blame her, if the raw feeling in my throat was any indicator, I’d yelled pretty loudly. It was a wonder she hadn’t left right away.

“Sorry,” I croaked, feeling like my head was stuffed with cotton, “bad dream.” 

“That’s..perfectly okay, I just..” She motioned to the syringe with a nervous sort of smile, like she was afraid I’d attack her if she touched me, “Need to get this medicine in you, if you want to heal up quick.” That was new, but if Amity had a salve to speed healing four years ago, I guess it wasn’t much of a stretch to think something stronger had been developed since then. I nodded slowly, but held my hand out for the device without really thinking. She frowned at me, looking perplexed, but I didn’t back down. 

“I prefer to-- I don’t..like other people sticking me with needles, but..if I do it, it’s okay,” Her face softened at that, like she understood, and it irritated me more than it should have. She’d perceived this as some kind of weakness, a fear, when it wasn’t. I didn’t have a problem with the puncture, I had a problem with the medicine itself - if anyone was going to inject my body with foreign substances, it had to be me. The pain was barely even a pinch, truthfully the liquid being forced into my vein was more uncomfortable than being pierced, and that should have worried me, but it didn’t.

“There we go,” The nurse hummed softly, patting my arm and standing, she still looked cagey. Clearly she was looking for any opportunity to get away from me. Good, I wanted to be alone anyway. “Just rest now, your body needs to heal, I’ll be by in a little bit with some food for you,” I only nodded in response, watching the way her shoulders relaxed immediately, before she tittered away with a deep sigh. I didn’t want to go back to sleep, afraid I might experience that particular memory again, but my eyes were itchy, and the effort of keeping them open was too much to tolerate, so I gave in.

I hadn’t even truly dozed off when I heard the nurse from before, soft spoken and friendly, so I opened my eyes expecting to find her coming towards me with a tray of food. Instead, my eyes locked on to the last person I wanted to see. Peter. He stood there with blood all over his face, paler than usual, and he was looking right at me. I hadn’t done that, had I? It sent a jolt down my spine, straight to my gut, when I met his eyes - all I could think of were his hands on me, of his fingers circling my throat and squeezing - but I stared back all the same. His tongue dragged itself across his busted lip, and I felt my face burn at the memory of fighting him. 

_ “So that's what gets you off, huh? Never would have pegged  _ you _ to be a sadist.” _

I looked away again, frowning hard. I didn’t want to think about the implications of his words, or the fact that I enjoyed watching him taste his own blood. Or moreso, I enjoyed being the one that made him bleed. I  _ certainly  _ didn’t want to think about being held by my neck over the roaring chasm. With determination, I closed my eyes tight, and pushed all of those thoughts away. I was going to rest, and disappear from this world for a while, then Peter couldn’t bother me, couldn’t wreak havoc in my mind for at least a little while.

Of course that wouldn’t happen.

I’m not entirely sure how much time passed before I felt like I was being watched. I could smell him from where he stood, it was a mix of cedar and something earthy, and I hated recognizing it so easily. I hated that I felt a flutter of something in my chest at the smell even more. His cologne lead me to think about lemongrass soap, and Al’s betrayal, and that did the trick to kill whatever had the gall to do any  _ fluttering _ . It had been four years ago, but to me it was as fresh as yesterday. It didn’t take a genius to catch the way he was looking at my injuries like I was undressing for him when I opened my eyes.

Somehow, things went from him standing at the foot of my bed, with me assuring him that I wasn’t in critical condition, to Peter being in my personal space, leaning over me, and all I could focus on was the distinct crescent row of teeth scarred into his forearm. The forearm right beside of my head. It sent a jolt of electric fear through my gut. Had that always been there? How had I not noticed it before?

Panic swelled in my chest, I was in Dauntless headquarters again, with Peter dangling me over the chasm, and the urge to scream bubbled up until his lips were brushing the shell of my ear. Now  _ that _ was a different feeling from panic. I felt warm and uncomfortable, struggling to breathe, this wasn’t what I wanted. Not Peter, not his hot breath on my neck, or his skin against mine. I found myself struggling to remember. He was a bad guy, a dangerous, violent person who would do anything to get the upper hand. That didn’t stop the incessant fluttering, though.

Peter’s lack of apology made my blood boil, which was all the motivation I needed to tell him to leave, but it sounded weak, even to me. I hadn’t expected him to leave, but I hadn’t expected him to practically purr a no at me, either. I tried again, feeling a fuzzy sort of disconnection, I didn’t even know if I wanted him to go - of  _ course _ I did! -, but it made the most sense to tell him to. After all..

_ “You sure you’re sixteen, Stiff?” _

“Say it like you mean it.” 

I didn’t want Peter to be the one that made my heart get stuck in my throat, but here we were, and I hated every inch of him, and every nerve ending in my body for responding so traitorously. I didn’t want this.  _ Please just leave _ , I wanted to say, I wanted to scream or to tell him to get lost, but I couldn’t even manage to say  _ get out _ with any sort of conviction. 

“You sure about that?”

Something was seriously wrong with me. There was a moment, when he was in front of me, when I had to stare into those damn eyes, - I felt his breath on my mouth, and was reminded of a similar situation, when he’d smelled like cigarettes and breath mints - that I wanted to give up -  jut my chin up and kiss him. If anything it would knock him off of his high horse, but I didn’t. This was  _ Peter _ . He’d gouged out Edward’s eye, he’d tried to kill me.

Instead, I nodded.

He pulled away like I’d burned him, and I felt empty for it, just another thing I didn’t want to think about, so I shoved it deep into the back of my mind, sealed it up in a box never to be opened. My eyes drifted over his forearm again, as he reminded me that I had one free shot on him. That he  _ owed _ me. It was so messed up, but so very like Peter that I couldn’t really discredit him for it. This was him being decent, and it disgusted me to realize it.

“I’ll think about it,” My voice was a traitor, it sounded like I’d just run a marathon, and my skin was still singing where he’d touched me. For all I knew, he’d dragged molten metal along my jaw, chained my wrists in fire. I hated him for it, but I hated myself more - what was _ wrong _ with me? Why was this how I responded to someone as toxic, and destructive as Peter? Why couldn’t I feel this way about--

Al wasn’t a safe bet, either.

“Peter?” I flinched at the sound of my voice, I hadn’t even consciously said it, but the look on his face when he turned back around made it feel like someone had knocked all the breath out of me. He didn’t seem annoyed, or overly confident - he looked.. _ hopeful _ . That was a can of worms I didn’t want to open. My eyes flitted from the scar I’d given him in another life, to the deep red gouge across the bridge of his nose. It didn’t bring me as much pleasure to see as I’d have expected it to.

“Who broke your nose?”

Whatever look I might have imagined was gone. His face hardened into something more cruel and familiar, something I recognized in him as he’d pressed his hand into my neck, and ripped my breath from me. I’d half expected to hear that Christina or Al had attacked him, even Uriah would have made more sense than the name that left his mouth like venom.  _ Eric _ had done that to him?

Peter left without another word, his shoulders stiff, and his entire posture charged. The confidence and playful cockiness was gone, replaced with something violent. Whatever happened between he and Eric while I was out, it couldn’t have been good. I fell back against the stiff bed beneath me and groaned, running my hands over my face. Even after Peter left, my heart felt like it was permanently lodged in my throat, but even that was more tolerable than the thrumming warmth in my cheeks and along my jawline.

What the hell was wrong with me?

My body tingled at the phantom of Peter hanging over me, of his warm hands around my wrists. I  _ wanted _ to kiss him then, and that in itself was terrifying. Peter Hayes was a psychopath, and a violent individual that would do everything in his power to get what he wanted. Why did it have to be  _ him _ that made me feel like that? Why did it have to be me that he acted this way towards? I felt tears pricking the corners of my eyes, frustration bubbling in my chest and threatening to boil over.

When I finally slept, I didn’t dream about memories, for once.   
  


* * *

 

The next time I woke up, it was covered in sweat, and I had images of Peter’s teeth coated in blood flashing through my head. Whatever I’d dreamt was fading, but there was a hot ball coiling in my stomach, and pulsing through my veins. I looked around groggily for the source of whatever woke me, and found that for the second time today my guest was someone I absolutely didn’t want to see. 

“There she is,” Eric’s voice was strange, friendly, almost. I swallowed down the instinct to yell, he wasn’t doing anything to warrant that sort of response. Eric was sitting in the chair Peter had occupied the last time I’d been awake, the memory brought a warmth to my cheeks. I’d acted like an idiot, I should have been stronger and made him go away, he probably thought I liked the attention he was giving me, now.

I ran a hand under my eye and blinked a few times, sitting upright with a quiet groan. Every part of me hurt with a deep, throbbing sort of pain, tolerable but unpleasant. Eric’s brow furrowed as he watched me with unnerving alertness. For a second I felt the irrational fear grip my gut,  _ he knows _ , but this version of him wouldn’t even know what Divergence was, let alone that it made me a target. It didn’t, not in this world.

“Mn, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I mumbled quietly, trying to sound jovial. I needed to stop looking at this like it was the past, read into it as the present. Officer Coulter was my superior, and so far he’d shown an unusual amount of interest in my well-being, I needed to find out why, and how to get away from his radar. He raised his brows, a condescending smile on his lips.

“I was just worried about one of my recruits who happens to show a lot of promise,” He raised his brows up as though incredulous that I might think he would be there for any other reason, so I set him with a frown and furrowed eyebrows, even if it sent sharp pain down my temples, it was worth it to make him roll his eyes and huff out a laugh. 

“Fine, fine. I did want to see if you had brain damage or anything,  _ and _ I wanted to tell you that you’re going to have to fight tomorrow, regardless of the injury. It’s not in the program for us to just go easy on you, people won’t in the field.”

“Warn me, you mean,” 

“Mm. That, too, I guess.” He smiled, like he was pleased that I didn’t fall for his good-mentor schtick. “I also wanted to offer to work with you a little, outside of training, to teach you how to really fight. You’re good, but you need to work on using your opponent’s strength against them, so that what happened today doesn’t happen again.” I frowned, then, certain he hadn’t offered any of my fellow recruits this sort of kindness. What was he playing at?

“Why did you break Peter’s nose?”

His smile flattened into a thin line, his lips turning white with the pressure. What kindness had been in his eyes hardened into a look I recognized from my memories, he’d had it before he dropped Chris over the chasm, and when he’d made Four throw knives at me. I swallowed hard and tried not to look as worried as I felt.

“He spoke out of turn, insulted his superior, and severely injured a fellow recruit.” His answer was clinical, tone cold and precise. I didn’t like it at all. “It was barely a break, he’ll survive. What, you worried about the guy who tried to crack your head open?” His tone was aggressive in a polite way that made it so, so much worse. It was an accusation. I took a deep breath and shook my head, fixing him with a wry grin.

“I’m just disappointed, I wanted to be the one to do it.” That perked him up almost immediately. Eric’s grin was back in place, the laid back one that made it easy to forget just what he was behind that face. Maybe it came out in a different way here - no, no maybe, I was  _ sure _ it did, someone like him wasn’t made good just by a memory wipe. Peter was proof of that. - but he was dangerous, maybe even more so than Peter was. I bit the inside of my cheek, watching his eyes travel over my bare arms, and all the bruises there. I subconsciously pulled my blanket up to my chin, then shivered unconvincingly as an afterthought.

“There’s still time, plenty of fights to go, I’m sure you’ll get a chance.”

“Mm. So, uh,” I paused, trying to decide if I wanted to take him up on his offer or not. There were definite pros and cons to each, but the cons were by far more intimidating. My teeth sought out the skin just inside the corner of my lips; Eric cocked his head marginally, silently urging me to continue with a look that was just on this side of impatient  _ and _ sarcastic.

“I don’t think..it’s  _ fair _ to the rest of the recruits- if you help me, I mean. They’ll just say I got special treatment or something, that I didn’t earn it on my own,” I didn’t mention the part where I didn’t want to be alone with him, where he could hurt me if he really wanted, and no one would be there to see it. To stop it. The corner of his mouth dipped into a half cocked frown, like he was disappointed that I was saying no.

“I meant what I said, you’ve got a lot of potential, Prior--” Breath hissed between my teeth. I felt dirty at the sound of my last name on his tongue. It reminded me of foggy snippets of Peter’s voice in my ear, of him purring down the line to ask me, “ _ Did I make you wet, Prior? _ ” My face felt hot.  

“It’s Tris,” 

“..sorry?” 

“My name, it’s Tris.” Eric smirked, getting up from his chair and patting me on the upper thigh. His palm stayed there, heavy and warm, and I wanted more than anything to shrug it off, but I thought it wasn’t the safest idea when I’d already turned him down for the private training  _ and _ corrected him.

“Tris, huh? I’ll keep that in mind. Anyway, what I was saying,  _ Tris _ , was you’ve got  _ potential _ , you just need to stop letting what everyone else thinks of you get in the way of it.” He gave my leg a squeeze and let go, much to my relief, and turned like he was leaving. The knots in my stomach were working themselves out at the prospect of not being alone with him any longer than absolutely necessary.

“Just. Promise to think about my offer. If some jealous idiot accusing you of  _ cheating _ at natural skill is all it takes to keep you from ranking high enough to become an investigator-” I gasped quietly, wondering how exactly he’d known that, I hadn’t told anyone other than Chris, Will, and Al, “then maybe you don’t have what it takes to become one in the first place.” He kept walking, chuckling to himself with his hands in his pockets, but stopped a few feet away to look over his shoulder at me, toothy grin in place, “We always need more meter maids and security guards, anyway.” 

I scowled at the back of his head as he started walking again, biting down on my tongue and balling my hands into fists. I wouldn’t let him bait me into choosing his option, if he was pushing me this hard about it, then it was in my best interest to say no, wasn’t it? Then I thought of Peter’s hands around my throat in another life, of my head hitting the ground today during our fight, and grit my teeth.

“Fine!” I snapped, loud enough for him to hear. Eric’s body tensed for a moment before he turned to face me, arms now crossed over his chest. He had a look of pure satisfaction on his face, and maybe just a little bit of pride. “Fine I’ll..I’ll do it.” I wanted to be strong, stronger than Peter, stronger than Al, and this was my way in. I’d seen Eric fight, I’d fought him myself, if he could show me how to do what he did..it was worth it, right?

So why did I feel so disgusting, like I’d made a deal with the devil?

“Perfect. Come to the training room after dinner, which I expect you to eat in the cafeteria. You’ve rested long enough.”

He didn’t give me a chance to argue, walking right out of the med bay without another word. I hated to admit it, but a small part of me appreciated that he wasn’t treating me like I was made out of glass. Sure, I was in a lot of pain, but my head was only painful in an annoying way now, and getting out of bed didn’t hurt more than it might after a particularly strenuous run. Either I  was healing quickly, or I’d just gotten used to the pain.

Either way I was back in my shoes and out of the bay in under ten minutes, I even managed to jog to the cafeteria, even if my nerves screamed at me for the fresh waves of pain. Eric was right. If I was going to do what I came here to do, I needed to stop being so fragile. The first step in that was not letting my pain control me.

Across the cafeteria I spotted Peter and his friends. For someone who’d had their nose broken  _ and _ had been disqualified from the first set of fights, he looked pretty pleased with himself. I felt a lot of things looking at him, confusing mixtures of hate, curiosity and..something else I didn’t have a name for, but hate was the easiest one to understand and communicate, so I chose that one. 

His eyes dragged over my arms, the bruises there, and he looked just as lecherous as he had in the med bay. I turned away from him and went to the dwindling line of recruits who looked like they’d seen better days. Everyone in the cafeteria had some varying set of bruises or cuts and slumped, exhausted shoulders. It felt familiar, comfortable, like I was back in Dauntless. 

“You should ice your hands, Chris,” I heard Will, the three of them had yet to notice me, but I’d seen them - each were bruised like everyone else, but Christina’s hands were worse. They were swollen, one had a bruise forming across the top, while the other’s knuckles were split. I sat down next to her and she nearly jumped out of her skin, looking at me with wide eyes.

“Tris, what the hell are you doing out here?” I made it a point not to look at Al. He’d tried to kill me. He’d helped  _ Peter _ try to kill me. Even if he didn’t remember it, I did. I smiled at Chris, instead, and shrugged as I dug into dinner earnestly. If I’d learned anything, it was that all this fighting really had a way of working up my appetite.

“M’fine, Chris. I got a shot, it’s healing me up nice and proper,” I offered, not unkindly, before smiling at her as gently as I could manage. Now that we were sitting together, I got a better look at her bruised hand, the shape and size of the bruise was suspiciously foot-like. I frowned at it, then looked back up at her. She rolled her eyes and shrugged.

“I decked Peter, so his troll girlfriend stomped my hand, and that is so not the point.” I bristled, thinking about what Peter had said to me in the med bay. How he owed me. Was that what Molly and him had done to Christina? Made it even, by trying to break her hand? I didn’t like that I was starting to understand them.

“You could have  _ died, _ or been brain dead, are you okay?” Will chimed in, sounding genuinely concerned. I glanced at Al, who was staring at his plate with a frown, his knuckles were white around his fork handle, but he didn’t seem to have anything worth saying about my condition. Good.

I laughed a little, biting into a roll and washing it down with water, Chris and Will were looking at me expectantly. “Yeah, I told you, I’m fine,” I murmured, then added with a tilted head, “Well, other than I’m absolutely starving, but yeah. Good.” Neither of them looked like they believed me, and Al slammed his fist on the table hard enough to rattle our trays. I flinched and glared at him as he looked up, his face red.

“Damn it, Tris, stop acting so _ tough _ \- Peter almost killed you. You’re not fine.” I felt my mouth curl into a bitter frown, how dare he tell me if I was okay or not? My hands balled themselves into fists around my fork and knife. I breathed in through my nose and counted to ten in my head, knowing anything I said before then would either not make sense to him, or would end in a fight between the four of us. I didn’t want to do that to Chris or Will.

“You ever consider that maybe I actually  _ am _ tough, Al? That I don’t need your protection?” I stood, dragging my napkin over my mouth, and gripped the edges of my tray, all while staring him down. His eyes were wide now and he looked vaguely apologetic, “I have just as much right to be out there fighting as anyone else in this academy, so you need to stop treating me like I’m made out of glass. I  _ said _ I’m fine, so I am, and I will be the next time I get hit, and the time after that.”

“Tris--” Christina started, but I shook my head and stepped away from our table. Any appetite I’d formed was gone, my stomach was bubbling with heat and rage now. Once my tray was empty I looked across the room, first to Peter who was looking at me with upraised brows and a bemused smile, then to Eric, who looked that weird, unsettling kind of proud I was getting used to seeing. Christina, Will and Al hadn’t believed I was strong enough to take care of myself, but he did. A weird part of me knew that Peter did, too.

Dinner wouldn’t be over for another fifteen minutes or so, and seeing Peter had reminded me of how he’d said he owed me for my concussion. He hadn’t mentioned the night he’d humiliated me, but if I was right in assuming he worked on a system of paying people back, and keeping the attacks even, maybe it was time I looked at that envelope in my duffel bag. I was strong enough to take whatever was in there, it was time to stop letting fear and pain control me.

When I got back to my bunk, the room was blissfully empty, just as I’d expected. I plopped down with my bag between my legs, fishing around until I got to the very bottom. The envelope was still crisp and clean, unbent or marred. For all intents and purposes, it could have been handed to me yesterday. I expected to open it and find copies of the picture that had been taken, something mocking me.

Inside of it was a neatly folded piece of paper and another envelope that was heavy. I opened that, first, frowning as I found rows of money. Not a fortune, by any means, but it was enough to surprise me. I turned to the paper, sighing, and unfolded it. Hopefully whatever was in there would explain the money. Surely he wasn’t trying to  _ buy _ my forgiveness. The writing was cramped and small, but neat.

 

Before I get to the reason for what’s in that other envelope I want to say I didn’t plan for the picture thing to happen. You owed me, embarrassing me in the cafeteria like that, so yeah I had to make you pay for it. Literally, with dinner, and by putting up with me and playing nice. So, you paid me back - the picture, humiliating you like that, wasn’t part of the exchange. So, I’m sorry about it happening like that.

If you’d just gone to coffee with me back at my place, we could have avoided it, you know, so I tried  to stop it. I couldn’t just tell Molly and Drew no, then they’d challenge me and they’re good friends. I’m not letting you change that. 

What I’m trying to say is that I owe you so, since I can’t take back what we did, I can at least repay you for the dinner. All that’s in the envelope is what you paid, nothing more, nothing less. Which means we traded humiliation for humiliation and we’re even now. I don’t want to be in your debt.

And..thank you. For going to dinner with me, I mean. I had a good time. I’d like to do it again, without having to bribe you into it.

 

My hands were shaking with barely contained rage as I read it, then read it again just to make sure I hadn’t misread. My stomach churned and my face felt like it had caught fire. He seriously thought this made it it okay? I shoved everything back into the envelope, feeling sick and violent, and finally popped open my phone. There were several missed texts from Peter, and a few calls, too. If I was going to face this, I needed to  _ fully _ face it.

 

**[10:08AM] Peter Hayes:** I know you’re mad, but look at the envelope, it’ll explain a lot.

**[10:30AM] Peter Hayes:** Either you’re not awake, not with your phone, or actively ignoring me.

**MISSED CALLS**

**PETER HAYES 11:12 AM**

**PETER HAYES 11:25 AM**

**[12:44PM] Peter Hayes:** Starting to really think you’re ignoring me, Prior. That hurts, I thought  you were smarter than this.

**[12:58PM] Peter Hayes:** Alright, fine, I’ll give you some time or whatever.

**[7:00PM] Peter Hayes:** This is seriously childish, Tris. I apologized AND paid you back and  everything, I don’t see why you’re still ignoring me.

**MISSED CALL**

**PETER HAYES 12:03 AM [1 Voicemail]**

“God damn it, Tris just answer your phone, stop ignoring me, and we can talk about this like adults. I said I was  _ sorry _ already! Look, fuck, I- can we just go to dinner or something, for real this time? Call me back.”

**MISSED CALL**

**PETER HAYES 2:16 AM [1 Voicemail]**

“Alright, fine. I guess I was right about you in the first place, you’re a child and I’m wasting my time. As far as I’m concerned, we’re even. Should have known better than to think you’d handle this maturely.”

 

The rest of the texts were from Al, Chris and Will. I didn’t look at them. It felt like I’d swallowed a handful of tacks, and my eyes were stinging with tears I refused to let form. The sound of someone knocking on wood made me jump and nearly drop my phone. Across the room Eric was leaning in the doorway to our dorm, arms crossed and a smug expression on his face. My hands were still shaking as I shoved everything into my bag and tucked it back underneath my bed. 

I regretted checking the messages, reading the envelope. I hated Peter more than anything, but knowing he was trying in his severely, massively messed up way to make things square between us was something I didn’t quite have it in me to comprehend. It infuriated me that I was starting to understand how his mind worked. I didn’t want to know.  I hated how he thought his brand of justice worked for  _ everything _ .

“Having second thoughts, Tris?” 

“Hardly. Let’s go, before someone sees.” I scowled at Eric, and received a wide eyed look of appreciation for it. He nodded and left the room, so I did the only thing that made sense. I followed; the idea of hitting him, or anything for that matter, to release some of my pent up fury was far worth the anxiety that came with knowing I’d be at his mercy.

Right then I just didn’t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tris is just a magnet for violent, manipulative people, I swear. The dialogue from the chasm scene is directly from the book, I rewrote the scene because I can't bring myself to use the original without reworking it a little. I'm so glad I finally got to get into Peter's letter and his super fucked version of remorse, so that's a thing.
> 
> Things are about to get pretty interesting.
> 
> As always I absolutely adore all of your comments, they keep me motivated to write.


	5. Zemblanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zemblanity
> 
> (n.) the inevitable discovery of what we would rather not know; the opposite of serendipity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warning here, this chapter includes a scene very similar to rape, if that makes you uncomfortable or triggers a fear response/panic attack I would recommend skipping the first portion of this chapter. It's nothing serious, but could be troublesome for some.
> 
> Having said that, enjoy. This chapter is a little all over the place, but I'm pretty pleased with the progress!

The training room was more menacing after hours, only half of the lights were actually on, and without all the other recruits there, the whole place was eerily quiet. I felt like the entire facility had been abandoned. It didn’t escape my notice when Eric turned to the only set of doors leading in or out of the room, and locked them. The click was audible, sounding a bit like he’d just hammered the last nail into my coffin. I raised my brows at him, crossing my arms so that it wouldn’t be noticeable that my hands were shaking.

Now that I was alone with Eric, I began to rethink my decision. Was it worth it to be able to avoid being overpowered, if it meant facing whatever danger I’d been locked in with? Eric’s lips curled into an amused smile as he prowled closer, arms extended from himself as he made a wide, sweeping gesture.

“You’re looking at me like I’m going to murder you,” He laughed, letting his hands fall to rest on each hip as his expression turned condescending. “You really should trust people more often,” He hummed, walking towards the mat I’d fought on earlier that day. Where I’d lost to him _and_ Peter, but at least I’d beaten Molly. Once he was standing in the center of the mat, Eric raised his arms again, spread them wide, and ducked his head slightly, that grin still in place.

“Come at me,”

I did just that, rushing towards him and aiming low. I ducked his first strike with the intent to hit him in the gut, but instead only managed to stumble a few feet away, with my back to him, as Eric spun out of my reach. I didn’t have time to recover as I felt a strike land on my back, stinging but not as hard as he could have made it. A chastisement more than an outright attack. He tutted at me, and when I twisted back around to face him, arms held up to block in case he attacked, his expression was amused.

“Oh come on, you can do better than that,”

I tried to prove him right. Time and time again, I jumped in and struck, but each attempt he seemed to read my movements and deflect me, either sending me stumbling backwards, or actually striking me. I was seeing red at this point, between his playful insults, and the sharp hits he was landing - a slap to my ear, a rough palm to my forehead, a shove at my stomach - I felt more like a child being played with than a student being taught. The injury to my head had slowed me considerably, and I hated how sluggish I felt because of it.

As he moved to strike, I threw my hand up and deflected it, letting my body follow the motion until I was in his guard, and was able to cuff him right in the ear, as he’d intended to do to me. Eric’s brows were threatening to disappear into his hairline, and his teeth glistened, lips thinned into a feral grin. I flinched at how close I’d gotten, momentarily distracted by the grotesque holes in his face being stretched to their limits by his smile.

That was enough to miss the subtle hook of his foot behind my heel before I fell unceremoniously on my backside, glowering up at him. I’d only just avoided biting my tongue off, but the fall still rattled my teeth and set my head to aching. Eric laughed then, hands on his hips again, and that same stupid, condescending look on his face. He could have at least pretended he wasn’t enjoying it so much.

“Never let your opponent distract you, Tris. It’s a one way ticket to a loss, and maybe even a lost life,” His eyes trailed over me in a repulsive, slow rake that made me feel exposed and uncomfortable, “or worse, depending on the criminal,”

From the mat I twisted my body so I could kick out at his ankles, making Eric stumble for a few steps before he caught himself, and straightened up. His grin somehow got wider. I found that I didn’t really mind seeing pride on his face as much now as I had before, I was even starting to kind of enjoy the way it felt to earn it. That meant I was making progress, and progress was what this was all about, right?

“And never underestimate your opponent, just because they’ve gone down, or are smaller or weaker than you,” He preached, turning my attack into a lesson, but his smile dipped into a scowl as I began to get to my feet, slower than I might have if he had been openly attacking me. That was my downfall, it ended with him sending a sharp jab to my collarbones that flattened me to the mat again. Eric dropped to one knee, pressing the other to my chest to keep me there.

“Another deadly mistake, trusting that I’d actually let you up. You need to be faster, ready at all times.”

I wheezed at the pressure, pushing my palms into his knee in the hopes he might let up, but he didn’t. To my horror, Eric pressed his hands against my throat and leaned in, cutting off my air supply, and sending me into a panic. I was ashamed at how quickly I felt that I’d lost control. The situation had gone from sparring with Eric, to being back in the pit with Peter cutting off my air supply, feeling the cool spray of the chasm on my arms, knowing I would die.

“Stay on your feet, don’t let your guard down for a moment,”

I wheezed and grabbed for Eric’s wrists, kicking out with my legs, but he seemed prepared for that, shifting so that his knee was no longer on my chest; instead, he landed between my thighs so that his hips could press me down further. In the new position, I was stuck with my legs splayed wide, so that even if I tried kicking at him, it would gain me absolutely nothing. My throat was aching, and my lungs burned as I stared up at him; wide eyed with tears burning as they came to the surface.

“You have to learn to use your opponent’s strength against them, use _my_ strength against me, Prior. Make me stop, before you pass out,” again, he looked at me like I was food, “or worse.” Panic prickled my skin and sent a chill through me. I needed to get out of this.

I tried to scream, but it felt like my windpipe was being crushed, so I tried to think, instead. Really, I did, but all I could feel was his body pressed against mine, and my skin crawled at the utter feeling of powerlessness. It was overwhelming as I thought _this was it,_  this was how I was going to die. I’d never get all of my memories, or anyone else’s, back. My vision was cloudy with hot tears as I relaxed, hoping to loosen his hold by easing the tension in my muscles.

“Focus, stop letting your fear control you! Being scared isn’t going to save you, or grant you pity.” He barked, making me open my eyes to see him glaring down at me in disgust. This was the Eric I’d known before, the Dauntless leader I’d feared and hated. I blinked away the tears and scowled up at him, despite the terror clawing in my chest, threatening to rip me apart. _Focus_. I tucked my leg around one of his ankles, and twisted until he was forced to roll or have it broken, landing me on top of him. Eric’s fingers loosened enough for me to slam my forearms into his, ripping his grip from my throat entirely.

“That’s a good girl,” Laughter filled my ears.

I wheezed fresh air in, drawing my fist back and punching at him wildly, he blocked it with his forearms but I kept punching, sobbing, filled with fire and rage. How dare he make me feel so small? So scared? How could I have been _stupid_ enough to trust Eric of all people? His hands gripped my wrists in an iron vice, stopping me in my tracks.

“Tris, you need to calm down. Losing control of your anger is how you lose the fight.” I froze, looking at him to find genuine concern on his face, although that was probably his impeccable lying skills at work. My cheeks were wet, and that was mortifying. I felt my lower lip trembling, so I bit down on it and screwed my eyes shut, willing the tears to stop. It was over, I was in control of my body again, I’d flipped him and he was under _me_ now. After three seconds of deep breaths, I opened my eyes again. Eric was frowning at me, looking annoyed.

“I think I made a mistake, agreeing to this,”

“Bullshit. You need this, you need _me_.” Eric sat up so that I was left to sit on his thighs, my wrists still gripped in his hands. I wanted to jerk away, the feeling of confinement was quickly making panic bubble to the surface again, “Do you want to stop feeling so helpless, _huh_?”

I bit my lip harder and nodded, not trusting my voice. I didn’t want to feel the way he’d just made me feel again, not for Peter, not for Eric. Not for anyone in the world. Being at someone else’s mercy brought out something absolutely pathetic and disgusting in me. I hated it. Eric’s fingers released me, and I rose to my feet almost immediately, rubbing one wrist a few times before doing the same to the other. If the pain in my throat was any indicator, I’d likely have bruises.

“Then you need to stop being a coward.” He growled, pushing himself to his feet with anger burning in his eyes, “I picked you because I saw you out there, fighting. You weren’t a coward then, you took everything Peter gave you, everything _I_ gave you, and handed it back tenfold. This,” He gestured to all of me vaguely, but I knew the tears on my face, and my general weakness was what he meant, what he was so repulsed by, “that’s not what I wanted to see from you. You disappointed me, Prior.”

I scowled and roughly wiped my tears away with my forearm, clearing my throat even as it burned. After a moment of hesitation, I let my knees bend, and returned to a fighting stance, guard up. I needed to harden myself to my fear, to the tingling sensation in my gut, and the alarms screaming in my brain that I needed to get _away_ from Eric before he really hurt me. I wasn’t a coward, and I’d prove it, sanity be damned. I’d spent enough of my life afraid, or ashamed. Not anymore.

“I’m _not_ a coward,” I snapped, pushing down my fear as best I could; my tone was surprisingly firm, if not a little venomous. I used my hate for Eric, for Peter, and for people like them to steamroll through the coiling knots in my stomach. His pierced mouth stretched into a grimace of a smile, the friendly looks he’d been giving me before long gone. He was serious, now, and that was equal parts terrifying and satisfying.

“Then you won’t mind if I don’t pull my punches anymore, and Prior..” He hissed my name, eyes drifting from my head to my feet before landing back on my face again, all fire and venom, “the next time I pin you, I’m not going to coach you, I’m going to act just like anyone else in that situation would.” It felt like someone had wrapped ice around my heart and squeezed, but I nodded, hoping the fear didn’t show on my face.

“Don’t think I’m choosing this way because I want to do that to you, I’m not a creep - not that I’m trying to be your friend, either. I just want to see that potential I mentioned,” He explained, circling me like a hungry animal. I moved, careful not to stay in one place for too long. Neither of us struck yet, but the air was thick with tension.

“Because fear like what I just saw? That doesn’t come from being in that situation alone. Someone’s done that before, haven’t they?” My eyes widened marginally, but I didn’t confirm or deny it, just narrowed my stare, and hoped he’d shut up and attack already.

“Thought so. Until you can handle it without pissing your pants and crying for mommy..I’m going to push you to your breaking point. So either you _break_ , or you push back.”

We traded punches and blocks, ducking and weaving for a few minutes without either of us really getting an upper hand. My whole world was the spare few feet of the mat we were on, the way my split knuckles throbbed, and the constant mantra in my head. Stay on your feet, stay on your feet, _stay. On. Your. Feet._ If I hit that mat, I didn’t trust that I could handle the situation, that I would be able to get him off of me again without breaking down, and I didn’t want to find out what he planned to do if he _did_ get me on the ground.

Eric didn’t smirk, he didn’t smile, or show any sort of amusement at all as he jabbed and darted into my guard, over and over again. Usually I managed to weave, or spin around his back and retreat a few feet, before he got tired of that. He growled in frustration, drawing a taut leg out so that his shin connected with my torso, and knocked the wind from me. I wheezed, dodging the punch that followed while hugging my stomach with my free arm, all the while backpedaling to put a few feet between us.

“This is fighting, not dancing, stop trying to _escape_ and start trying to _win_. If you’re thinking you can use your stamina, outlast me, that’s a weak try at a win. You need to learn to beat me head on.”

I was having a hard time breathing, between the length of the fight itself, and the damage I’d taken earlier in the day, my endurance was about to run out. I didn’t even have the energy to snark back at him. Instead, I dove into the fight on reserve. My quick strike surprised him enough to let me punch Eric in the jaw, and while I was in, I hooked my heel around the back of his knee. He crumpled forward, and hit the mat on his knees with a grunt, grabbing for me. I jumped backwards, but missed the way his hand wrapped itself around my calf.

A yelp escaped my lips as my back hit the mat. Eric immediately grabbed the other leg and yanked me towards him. I yelled then, clawing at the mat and kicking wildly. I landed one kick to his stomach, and he grunted, but otherwise seemed unphased. That was when I made the mistake of rolling onto my stomach, and trying to pull myself away entirely. Eric’s hands dropped my calves in favor of gripping each side of my waist. When he had a decent hold on me, he jerked me back into him, until I felt his hips pressing into me.

Everything in me wanted to scream, but I bit it down and concentrated. Fear was bubbling to the surface again, not as badly this time since his hands weren’t at my throat, but now it was the lack of control _and_ the fear of what Eric planned to do to me. He flattened his chest against my back, hands still on my hips, and pressed his face into my hair next to my ear. Eric inhaled deeply and chuckled low in his throat. I threw my hips up, hoping to unbalance him, but it only served to make him groan into my ear obscenely.

“That was easy, Prior, is it fear you were feeling before, or were you trying not to _beg_ me?” He growled, making me feel disgusting in my own skin. How dare he accuse me of something like that! I screamed, angry and deep, slamming my back into his chest, but Eric only rolled his hips and pressed into me tighter. I could feel a hardness against my backside, which shot fear through my veins like ice. Hadn’t he just said he wasn’t a creep? How far was Eric willing to take this?

His lips grazed over my neck, and I shuddered in repulsion. I could feel each cold piercing as it dragged; it made me want to vomit. Eric ground himself into me again, and moaned this time, his breath hot against my throat. I thought of the hospital room, of Peter, and wasn’t sure if I was relieved or horrified to find that I wasn’t responding to Eric the way I’d reacted to him. I swallowed hard and focused, tried to plan. How could I use his strength against him? Eric’s fingers left my hips, skirting up my sides and sliding beneath my shirt. My eyes felt hot as shame burned through me.

Instead of agonizing over the terrible things he was doing, or would do soon, I could only worry over what my parents would think if they could see me. It made me feel dirty, used, and he’d barely even touched me yet. Eric’s breath puffed against my ear again, and I threw my head back, cracking it into his nose. He grunted in pain, but bit down on my earlobe a moment later, so hard I thought he might have broken the skin. Another yell escaped me.

“I think you like this, _Prior_. I think you get off on this shit.”

“ _No!!”_

I yelled so fiercely it made my throat raw, and pulled my legs towards my chest, curling into a ball. I slid my back down his chest until I was sitting upright, now Eric’s hands were pressed to my stomach, pushing higher. I didn’t give him any time to take advantage of the new situation, though. Instead, I grabbed his forearms and rolled hard to the right, taking him with me until he was on his back.

It didn’t do much to free me, I was still pinned to his chest, facing away from him, but my arm was free in this new position. Without a second’s hesitation, I threw my elbow out towards his face behind me. Pain flared up my forearm to the tips of my fingers, pulsing in my elbow in a rapid ache. I must have hit his mouth instead of his nose, this time.

Eric cursed then, and his grip loosened. My elbow throbbed from hitting his teeth so hard, but it was worth it to be free. I didn’t hesitate at all, rolling away from him and to my feet. My hair was no longer in its ponytail, falling loose and wild around my face, and my breaths were coming in short and heavy. I’d gotten away, I was safe, and Eric was cupping his face. As far as I could tell, I hadn’t made him bleed, but apparently it had hurt. Good.

“You’re a pig, I can't believe you wanted me to _trust_ you.” I hissed.

“And _you’re_ on your feet, while I’m still on the ground. My methods might be unorthodox, but they get results, don’t they? You stopped being afraid, instead you got pissed, and you beat me.”

“Because you were going to _rape_ me!”

“Oh please. If I wanted to have sex with someone that badly, I’ve got plenty of better options. Don’t flatter yourself, but the point is you thought I was, and that was what you needed to think, to be properly motivated- right?”

Something in me wanted to be angrier, I wanted to draw my leg back and kick him while he was down, punish him for saying those things to me. He needed to suffer for touching me like that, but I had to accept what he was saying. I _was_ standing, and he was recovering from his injury on the sparring mat. I was safe, relatively unscathed. His _motivation_ for me had been disgusting, but it _had_ worked, just like he said. That didn’t mean he was any less of an absolute monster, though.

“Are we done here?” I bit my tongue and opted not to say how badly I was dying to take a scalding hot shower, so I could scrape away the feeling of his hands on me. Eric grinned as he got to his feet, and as I got a good look at him I realized I had actually made him bleed, after all. His upper lip was split and his teeth were stained red. I swelled with pride at knowing I'd done that. He spat a glob of blood to his left, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, seemingly unphased by the cut.

“For tonight, yes. You still have a long way to go, but this is progress. You'll come back here tomorrow night, same time.”

I walked away from him without responding, or fully turning my back on him, eager to unlock those doors and escape. Eric's voice calling my name - Tris, not Prior, surprisingly - stopped me as my hand met the lock, making me turn my head to look at him fully. I hoped the scowl on my face was as full of contempt as I wanted it to be.

“Don’t lose tomorrow.”

It wasn't until I opened the door to the hallway outside that I realized our training room was sound proof. Out here it wasn't eerily silent, I could still hear the hustle and bustle of a working facility, even this late. No one outside of that training room had heard me screaming - they wouldn’t have heard or known if Eric had taken things too far. It took everything in me not to break into a flat out run, but I managed to walk with my head high. Sweat rolled down the back of my neck, though, and fear was twisting my gut in nasty ways.

* * *

 

After a brief shower that was almost too hot to tolerate - it left my skin a raw pink, but I couldn’t feel Eric’s fingers, or his breath, anymore - I finally made it back to the dorms with my duffel bag by my side. Most people were asleep, some of them were leaning over to talk to one another from bunk to bunk, but Christina was sitting on hers, legs crossed and mouth set into a hard frown. She was waiting for me - of course she was.

I slumped down to scoot my bag back beneath my bunk before I forced myself to sit next to her, tucking one leg under myself while hugging the other to my chest. She frowned at me, looking from my head, to my hands, and everywhere else, as though she was taking in a mental tally. When she seemed satisfied, her eyes finally met mine, serious and concerned; it made my stomach clench with guilt. She opened her mouth, then pursed her lips and looked down, only to look back up and open it again a few seconds later.

“What happened..over dinner, with Al-- I. I didn’t mean to,” She stopped, closing her eyes with a huff, and starting again, “ _We_ didn’t mean for you to feel like..you’re not strong, or capable. We just worry about you, Tris. Especially with how you’ve been the last few months - you’re in your head half the time, and when you’re with us it’s like..you’re different.” I frowned, opening my mouth to defend myself, but she held up a finger and shook her head, backpedaling slightly.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad different, you just have to give everyone time to adjust to this new you. Before, you were pretty submissive, you needed us to help you more, and you wouldn’t have snapped like you did, even if you didn’t need us. It’s..good, I think, that you’re learning to stick up for yourself, but..you have to see that it might be a little jarring for us to suddenly not be needed anymore, right?”

“You keep saying us,” I deadpanned, not looking away from her face despite how much I wanted to, “but you mean _Al_ . You and Will do need to stop treating me like I’m a child, but when you do it, I don’t feel as smothered, or belittled. Al acts like he _owns_ me, like I’ve personally offended him by having a backbone. In case it’s escaped your notice, Chris, I’m not planning on being a safe little secretary who never sees action in the field.” My throat hurts from Eric squeezing it, but I keep talking anyway, it feels like I have to say these things, now. “I need my _friends_ to support me in my strength, the same way that you supported my weakness.”

I remembered very clearly how they’d all treated me when I started doing better than them in the second portion of training at Dauntless. Christina had even turned on me, and I had a terrible feeling that she was going to do it again before all of this was over. She nodded, but didn’t look particularly happy with what I’d said. After a moment of her pressing her lips into a thin line, she finally spoke again.

“I just..think you might have been just a little harsh on Al, you have been, for a while now. He cares about you a lot.” Suddenly her expression hardened a bit, and she added quietly, “A lot more than Peter does, for sure.” It felt like someone had punched me in the stomach and twisted - I thought I heard someone take a sharp breath, but that might have been me. It was probably my imagination, but if felt like we were being watched. If only Christina knew what Al had done to me, what he _and_ Peter had done to me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t use that to explain my negativity towards him.

“Chris, Al doesn’t care about _me_. He cares about a fragile little girl who needs a hero. I don’t need protecting, and I’d appreciate it if you stopped insinuating whatever it is you’re trying to say where Peter is concerned. What happened with him..that’s not what you think. I can handle him.”

“There you go again, Tris. Why do you keep bottling this all up? We’re your friends, we want to help you--”

“I get that, Christina, seriously. I really appreciate you, and Will for that matter. I’m just not ready to forgive Al yet. When he can stop treating me like I’m his little pet, then maybe we can move towards being on good terms again.”

Chris sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, but it seemed that she understood I wasn’t going to back down, because she eventually nodded. I took this as my cue to get out of her bed, so I got back to my feet, hesitating for a moment. Touching people was still difficult, but I’d worried her, so the least I could do was make her feel a little better, right? Despite the jolt in my gut at the action, I leaned down and hugged her.

“Thank you, seriously. You’re a good friend,” I mumbled, pulling back to find a small smile on her face. Perfect, now she couldn’t say I didn’t care about her at all. When I stood upright I glanced around the room, my gaze automatically falling on Peter and Drew’s bunk. Peter’s eyes were wide open, and he was watching me, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, but my stomach twisted all the same. I flinched with a hard frown, and met his gaze, despite wanting to do anything but. He smirked, seemingly pleased with himself, though I couldn’t imagine why.

For a moment I was back in the medical bay, Peter’s fingers on my wrists, his breath on my neck, on my mouth. It sent an involuntary shudder down my spine. Peter seemed to notice even that, as he drew his lower lip between his teeth and smirked like the smug bastard he was. I felt the blood rush to my face and scowled. There was no way I was just going to stand there and let him think he was working me up.

I pointedly looked away from him, climbing into my own bed with only the slightest pain in my muscles. It wasn’t until I was under the blanket, and my head hit the pillow, that I realized exactly how tired I really was. Today had been a nightmare, and if my training with Eric tonight was any indicator, things weren’t looking to get better anytime soon.

I fell into a troubled sleep.

* * *

 

 

I knew I was dreaming because the world was focused, I could see the walls of The Pit in its new design, with the lights and the club music. Peter’s voice was in my ear, taunting me, and I’m pretty sure I was fighting with him. It felt familiar, like I’d been here before, like I’d done this. I walked across the Chasm without any fear, it didn’t even spark a memory of being strangled, nearly being killed. Instead I just lectured Peter, focusing on how heavy my limbs felt. Had I been drinking?

It was hard to concentrate, and all at once the phone was gone - Peter was standing in front of me, still talking, still telling me how he and his dream girl had come to this exact spot. The world tilted, and I could hear Peter perfectly, but I didn’t need to hear him. I could _see_ what he was telling me. He had my body pressed up against the wall, pressing against me, and I could only imagine the the look on my face was downright shameful. I had my eyes closed tight, blood pooling to my face as his lips crushed into mine.

It felt like my heart stopped as I kissed him back, whimpering into his mouth until his tongue met mine. I melted into him, then, digging my fingers into his back. Still he talked frantically, telling me how his dream girl _begged_ , all while he kissed a hot line down my jaw, until he was sucking on my pulse point. He was drawing noises out of me that I was certain I’d never made in the waking world.

Heat pulsed between my thighs, and Peter seemed to be just as worked up as I was. I could feel him against me, even through his jeans, it made my head spin faster and faster. His fingers dug into my hips and my back slid up the wall, instinctively I wrapped my legs around him and cried at the pressure as his pelvis crushed into mine. I’d never been touched, not by myself, let alone him, and it was overwhelming to experience.

Peter rocked his hips, grinding into me, and all I could do was whine and ride out the pleasure. Somewhere in my head I felt shame, but I couldn’t find it here, not when my heart was in my throat and Peter’s lips were on mine. Suddenly his voice registered again, I’d stopped listening to what it said, but he stopped moving against me, and I whined at the loss. He was gone.

I was alone against the wall, aching and desperate. The phone was back against my face, and Peter was on the other line. I could hear him, how frantic he was, begging me-- no, he was ordering me. Peter never begs.

“I want you to touch yourself - I want you to moan. I’m close, and I want to come, and you ruined my perfectly good material with your call,”

His words made me weak. I couldn’t do it, I told him so.

“That’s a shame. I wanted to hear you moan. Did you enjoy my story, at least? Did I make you wet, Prior?”

My world disappeared into a black pit that was just Peter’s voice and my pulse throbbing between my legs, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. I was vaguely aware of him talking to me, babbling, really, telling me all the things he would do to me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was aware of my voice, of moaning his name out loud-

* * *

 

I woke with a gasp, feeling heart pounding in my ears, and had to look around frantically to make sure I was in my bunk, not in the pit. My head spun as I laid back again, feeling an unfamiliar heat pooling between my legs. Anxiety filled me as my fingers dipped beneath my waistband, curiosity outweighing my embarrassment, even when I felt an obvious slickness pooling down there. I’d need another shower. I didn’t want to think about my dream, about what it meant.

I’d remembered snippets before, so it wasn’t just a weird dream. It made me think about Peter telling me I’d called him months ago. About how he wouldn’t tell me what else had been said - and everything hit me hard. I was horrified. What Al had accused me of..God. I’d actually..done that. I shoved the thought deep, deep into the back of my mind and forced myself to get up.

Once I managed to blink away my exhaustion, I went into autopilot, ignoring the way my pulse still pounded at the apex of my thighs. Exhaustion weighed me down through a morning routine of showering and dressing in the uniform we’d all been given. Simple black tank top with thick straps, loose fitting black sweat pants and sensible running shoes - also black. The Bureau sure didn’t do much at all to make the academy different from Dauntless. It was comforting, and I hated that.

Somehow I ended up in the cafeteria with a meager breakfast of powdered eggs and toast, but I’d been in my own head, trying to avoid Peter, Eric _and_ Al all at the same time. I couldn’t face any of them with the dream so vividly burned into my mind, it felt like anyone who looked at me would know.  Across the room I spotted Nita, she was cleaning up the assembly line where we picked up our breakfasts. Her smile was strange, I’d gotten so used to the severe expression she used around me, but that smile wasn’t pointed in my direction.

She was talking to Four, seemingly the two of them were friends because he smiled, too, and nowhere in my memories did I recall him smile that easily. Something in my chest tightened as Nita’s fingers brushed down Four’s arm until their fingers locked. It made no sense for that to make me feel upset, but I still felt that way. With a huff, I tore my eyes away, focusing on my food instead. So far I had been lucky in avoiding company, my table was unoccupied, but I was pulled out of my reverie when a tray landed with a plastic click across from me and I had to look up. That had been too much good luck, it seemed.

I was surprised to find Zeke across from me, all pleasant smiles, and his tray was loaded down with muffins and eggs, there was even a spiral as thin as paper that I think was supposed to be bacon, but I hadn’t trusted it enough to try. I pushed my food around my plate, looking around to see if anyone else was joining him, but he seemed to be alone.

“Ah..good morning,” I managed to choke out, not wanting to seem rude, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to share my solitude, even with him. He’d been a good partner when I’d had to intern with him during school, and I didn’t have any memories of him from before the wipe, so I had no reason not to trust him but, well. I didn’t really trust anyone, anymore. The more I learned about the world before this one, the more I began to realize everyone had an agenda, and it usually involved hurting someone for their own gain.

“Morning, Tris! You better eat up, after yesterday you need all the nutrients you can get,” He offered politely, his eyes raking over my face with a frown, and I knew it was at the bruises Peter had left behind. It hadn’t been _just_ Peter, though, Eric had a hand in my abused skin, too. I tried not to think about the ring of bruises around my neck, blossoming purple and violent. Anyone who had watched my fight yesterday knew that I hadn’t been strangled. I had no explanation for it.

“Oh yeah, I guess that’s true.” I tried to smile at him, but it didn’t feel like I really succeeded, before digging into my cold eggs. They didn’t taste like much of anything, but I wolfed them down all the same. Zeke was right. He seemed pleased with that, and started in on his own plate with the table manners of an animal. I tried not to laugh at him for that. His eyes darted up to my neck when he thought I wasn’t looking, and I swallowed hard, but didn’t mention it. Neither did he.

“Are you ready for the fights today?”

“Mm? Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better. Whatever that medicine stuff is, it works wonders,” I offered, almost too eagerly. I didn’t want to fight, not when I knew Eric would be picking my every punch and kick apart to destroy later, but I did want to prove myself. After yesterday, being carried out of the training room like that, I needed to work harder than ever so I wouldn’t turn my loss into a habit.

“Good, good. So uh how did--”

“Zeke, there you are!” A female voice chimed, followed by a tray landing on the table next to my trainer, as the owner of both sat down. I didn’t quite recognize her, something itched in the back of my head like I should have known who she was, but I just couldn’t find the memory. She was around my height with dark brown hair and the same olive colored skin Lynn had. Beautiful, but severe.

“Hey you,” Zeke grinned at her, looping an arm around the woman’s as she leaned up and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. I felt my face grow hot, and looked down at my plate, annoyed that things like a simple public kiss made me uncomfortable. I jumped when my trainer spoke up again, his voice jovial and friendly, like normal.

“Mm, Shauna, this is the intern that rode with me, she’s in my group. Tris, this is my girlfriend Shauna,” He hummed politely, and I felt a weird twitch of embarrassment. Why was I worth introducing? Somehow I managed to smile at her, and my stomach clenched up when she returned it, shaking hands with me. I was still bad at it, but she didn’t say anything about that.

“Nice to meet you, I’ve heard some good things about you.” I felt my shoulders relax and got another bite of cold eggs, trying to finish my breakfast so I could escape before training for some peace and quiet, but I nearly choked when she spoke up again. “I also heard you got your head knocked in pretty nasty yesterday, and that the guy that did it got his nose broken for it.” After recovering, and swallowing my food, I wiped my mouth and laughed uncomfortably. I didn’t like that word had spread so quick about that. The last thing I wanted was for people to start talking about Eric hurting Peter because of me.

“Oh, did he?” I asked, trying to seem surprised by the news, but I’d never been a good liar at the best of times. Neither of them were rude enough to call me out on it, though.

“Yeah,” Zeke started, looking vaguely uncomfortable now as he shot Shauna a look I didn’t understand, “Eric broke his nose because he got mouthy, not because he hurt Tris - but he did disqualify that prick for smashing her head like that.” I felt relief wash over me at that, grateful for Zeke and his truthfulness. That sounded much better than the way his girlfriend had said it. That implied that I was the reason Eric attacked a recruit, and I didn’t need that sort of publicity.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Peter sitting at a table nearby. He hadn’t been there before - how had I missed him coming in? I flushed at the memory of his voice in my ear, quivering. His nose looked better this morning, the cut above it had healed up to a thin line, but there were still deep bruises beneath his eyes and along the side of his nose; most of the swelling was gone, though. He seemed focused on his food, but from the tense set of his shoulders it occurred to me that he might have been listening to my conversation.

I wasn’t sure, not until Shauna spoke up again, catching my attention by crying out softly in surprise. My head snapped back around to look at her, but she wasn’t meeting my eyes, she was staring at my throat. I must have stretched it more obviously by tilting my gaze over my shoulder before. Shit. Zeke was staring, too, but he didn’t say much about it, just shoved his mouth full of food.

“Shit, since when do recruits strangle one another in training?” She asked, sucking air through her teeth as she reached for my chin, presumably to lift it and get a better look at the marks Eric had left. Naturally my head pulled back as I tucked my chin down, feeling uncomfortable. From behind me I heard a sharp intake of breath, from Peter’s direction, and when I glanced his way I spotted him staring at my back, hands gripping his utensils tightly. He didn’t look particularly pleased, especially when our eyes met.

“Oh..uh, that wasn’t..” I turned back to look at the two officers in front of me, smiling a little with a shrug. Zeke was looking at Peter, now, scowling. I didn’t want to think about the look I’d found on Peter’s face. Pursing my lips, I hesitated; I had to think for a moment, but ultimately I decided to use a grain of truth, “Uh, it was, I mean - I was working on self defense, with a partner. Outside of training, that is.” Zeke frowned at me with furrowed brows, and concern in his eyes, but that wasn’t as bad as the expression Shauna had. She was looking at me with upraised brows and a smirk. I wasn’t sure if I liked what that look was implying. After three seconds I got up, laughing awkwardly and unconvincingly.

“I’m uh, I need to go find my friends - I’ll see you in training, Zeke. Ah- and uh, nice to..have met you,” I offered Shauna, who still looked amused at me. I stormed to the back of the room and deposited my tray. After that I scurried off, not noticing that Peter had chosen that moment to get to his feet, too. It wasn’t until I stepped into a deserted hallway a few  minutes later that I heard footsteps. I turned to face whoever it was, groaning when I realized it was him, glowering at me as he advanced.

For every step he took, I backed up until my back was pressed to a wall, Peter’s hand splayed next to my head. His other hand hung between us as he glared straight into my soul. I swallowed hard, glaring right back up at him. I wasn’t going to let him scare me - even if I already felt the tell tale knot of anxiety balling up in my gut, stabbing its tendrils into my heart. Among other things. My palms were pressed to the cold wall behind me, and of all the stupid things to think of, I thought of the dream - of the _memory_.

“Peter..” I grunted, trying to get him to stop. Trying to get myself to stop.

More specifically, I thought of Peter grinding me into a wall - even if that hadn’t actually happened -, and my legs felt like gelatin. His fingers brushed my chin before he gripped it, tight enough to be uncomfortable without hurting. I stared him down as he jerked my chin up and inspected my neck, nostrils flaring, and when his eyes jumped back up to mine they were furious. He let go of my chin with a violent motion that sent my head sideways for a moment. I jerked it back, shoving my palms into his chest.

Peter’s other hand came to rest beside my head, caging me in, and I froze. My heart was in my throat and I thought of him panting in my ear, feeling my skin flush at the memory. Of all times, now had to be when my head went _there_. It felt like I was walking in quicksand, like time had slowed and all I could do was watch Peter glaring at me. When he spoke, his voice was rough. I hated how it sent a shudder through me, starting a fire I had no interest in.

“Who did that? And don’t give me some bullshit about your friends, none of them could do _that_ ,” I drew my tongue over my lower lip, feeling my fingers tremble, and why wasn’t I doing anything? He was barely hovering, all I’d need to do to get away was shove him backwards, but I didn’t. I just let my palms rest on his warm chest, had yet to move him. I breathed deep, and instantly regretted it, because my senses were overwhelmed with the smell of him. I felt a dampness between my legs and bit the inside of my cheek.

“Why should I tell you that..?” My voice was a traitor, like yesterday, it was soft and breathy, like I’d just got done running a marathon, and he seemed to notice. The anger ebbed into something more amused, and his eyes flicked to my hands still on him, dragging back up to my face as he cocked one brow, smirk in place. No, no no no. I needed to derail this train, and fast. Peter ducked in close, hovering next to my ear and breathed, one of his hands dropping from the wall to land on my hip. What the hell was going on?

“Did you decide what you want to do to me yet?”

Air hissed between my teeth at his tone, sultry and amused, he’d worded it like that on purpose, the absolute bastard. I gritted my teeth and counted to ten in my head, ignoring the way his thumb was drawing circles on my hip. When I didn’t answer, he surprised me by biting the skin directly below my jaw. A jolt of electricity shot through me and I made an embarrassingly whine-like noise. My skin was on fire and I hated it, my pulse had taken root in my core, like it had earlier that morning.

“Who did it, Tris? Who touched you?”

That caught my attention, the possessiveness in his tone. This time I did shove him backwards, he looked surprised from where he stood a few inches away from me. My heart was in a vice and it was hard to breathe, but I lifted a hand to press to the spot he’d bitten without thinking about it all the same. I wasn’t going to let Peter control me, not like this. I wanted whoever made my body respond the way it was to be someone I loved, and I didn’t even like him, no - I _hated_ him. My breaths were coming in shorter, now.

“It’s none of your business - keep your filthy hands off of me.”

“Mm, ‘atta girl, tell me I’m a _dirty_ boy,”

“You’re disgusting,”

Peter crowded me again, dragging his mouth up my neck until his lips brushed the shell of my ear, this time both of his hands were on my hips as he pulled me to him, until we were joined at the hips. I yelped, gripping his shoulders to ground me. Peter growled in my ear, and I shuddered, ignoring the fact that we were pressed together - that there was a distinct hardness pressing into my hip. That I liked it.

“Then you’re disgusting, too, Prior," He hissed, and then softer, more seductively he whispered, "Did I make you wet?” It felt like my stomach dropped out of my body. Hearing him say that, specifically, after my dream, it made me want to curl up and die. It made me want to press my mouth to his, and since neither of those were viable options, I spoke, instead. I don’t know why I said it, but the words tumbled out of me before I could stop them. I suddenly needed him to know.

“I remember the call. A-and I read..your messages, and the letter - I listened to your voicemails, all of it.”

Peter’s entire body went rigid and he stepped back to look at me, assessing my features with scrutiny. It looked like he didn’t believe me. I didn’t know if I wanted him to, I didn’t know what it meant to admit that I remembered what we’d _done_ or that I knew he’d apologized to me. He looked vulnerable then, mouth set into a hard frown.

“When? What do you remember?”

“Tris?” Christina’s voice came from the left, and I’d never been happier to hear it. I stepped away from Peter, leaving him standing there looking lost, and looped my arm around Chris’. She looked from Peter to me, her lips pursed, but I only shook my head and frowned, nodding in the opposite direction of him. She seemed to take the hint, and we headed towards the training room.

"We're not done, Prior!" 

My heart didn’t stop pounding until Peter was gone. Even then, my skin tingled with the memory of his fingers on my hips, of him pressed up against me. I shuddered, and Christina stopped, looking worried. She put her hands on my shoulders and frowned at me, taking another survey of my limbs like she'd done last night, as though she feared Peter might have fatally wounded me in the short amount of time we'd been together in the hallway.

“Did he hurt yo-- God! Tris, what happened to your neck?”

I groaned, running a hand down my face. I could murder Eric for all the trouble he was putting me through. He should have known better than to do something like that, something that would bruise so obviously. Christina looked absolutely livid - she _also_ looked like she was about five seconds from storming back down the way we’d come.

“I was training with an officer, didn’t get his name. I wanted him to teach me how to defend myself from..” I felt my face flush and scowled, “From, y’know, that sort of thing.”

“Tris, honey..what was Peter doing? Why do you need to know..” Her eyes widened and I began to frantically shake my head. She’d absolutely gotten the wrong idea. She looked even angrier than before, and actually did take a few steps in the other direction, hands balled at her fists. I reached out and grabbed her wrist.

“No no, _God_ no Chris. It’s nothing like that, I just, after my fight yesterday I felt so..helpless. I don’t want to feel like that again, and the officer was just doing his part. I’m fine, I promise - now let’s..we need to get in there before we’re late.” Christina didn’t budge, she didn’t look convinced, either.

“Please, Chris. I promise you, no one hurt me- I mean, not with the intent to do anything bad, just..training.” After a few seconds of hesitation she huffed and threw her hands in the air like I was the most frustrating person on the planet. That was entirely possible.

“Fine, but you and I need to have a good, long talk about honesty - and about what the hell is going on with you and that slimeball, and don’t you _dare_ tell me nothing. That didn’t look like nothing to me.”

“..Okay, fine, but..later.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

With that settled we made our way into the training room, I already felt exhausted, and the day had only just begun. The room felt safe and comfortable with the lights on. I could forget how Eric had me down on the mat just a few hours ago, or how in less than twenty four hours I’d had two different bodies pressing in on me, crowding and suffocating me. When had everything gotten so complicated?

As I spotted Eric across the room I scowled - his eyes dropped to my neck and a wide smirk pulled at his lips before he looked at me pointedly. The cut over his lip was virtually gone. I scowled, letting my eyes drift to the board with all of our names. Today I was paired off against Uriah, which was a little troubling. He was a damn good fighter, but I could handle him. Probably. Eric’s voice rang in my ears, making me scowl even harder.

_“Tris, don’t lose tomorrow.”_

What the hell was happening to my life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so Eric's hand is still not being shown, not really, but at least we're starting to see that he's still that lovely psychopath from Divergent! And what's Peter going to do, now that he knows that Tris is up to speed on everything, especially with her /super/ sketchy neck bruises? 
> 
> Not sure when I'll have the next chapter up, my schedule has gotten all messed up thanks to work, but I'm hoping to get back on a regular time again soon! 
> 
> As always thank you so, so much for all your comments and kudos, they mean so much to me. I do want to warn any of you that are uncomfortable with how twisted this relationship has been so far - I don't intend for Peter and Tris to be cuddly and normal, it's not in their archetype. While they won't be an abusive couple, please understand that there will be a decent amount of toxicity between them, especially before feelings are admitted, but even after that.


	6. Quatervois

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quatervois
> 
> (n.) a crossroads; a critical decision or turning point in one’s life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, it's been a while! Sorry for disappearing for such a long time without any warning, but the holidays and money shortages have made things a little hectic. I'm still not on a SET upload schedule, but I'm going to try to be more frequent again, definitely won't go /months/ without updating if I can help it. Anyway, enjoy!

As it turned out, beating Uriah wasn’t as difficult as I’d imagined it being. Shame burned in my stomach at the way Eric looked at me with that same, disturbingly unmasked sense of pride after I managed to pin Uriah with an arm to his throat, and a knee against his chest. After all was said and done, I held a hand out and helped him to his feet, and that put a scowl on Eric’s face. Uriah grinned at me good naturedly, breathing a little heavily, “Not bad, Tris. Color me impressed,” It didn’t escape my notice how Peter was watching. How he scowled when Uriah draped an arm around my shoulders and led me back towards Christina - that same look was mirrored on Al’s face. Pride swelled in my chest for having won, but I tried to bite it down, getting a swollen head now wouldn’t do me any good at all.

The rest of the day was surprisingly smooth going. I didn’t lose any of my fights, I also didn’t have to fight Peter. He went up against Al, and it was almost scary how violently that fight went. How Peter’s head slammed into the mat as Al pinned him down with his arms behind his back, like he planned on cuffing him then and there. Peter had murder in his eyes when he finally got up, but for some reason his loss didn’t exactly feel  _ good _ . Probably because Al kept looking at me like I should be cheering him as my hero for beating someone half his size. I didn’t. Instead I stuck close to Christina and Uriah, discussing quietly who we thought might have to fight the next day.

Training in the afternoon hurt. Every muscle in my body sang with pain, between my regular fights, my after hours training with Eric, and the brutal beating I’d taken from Peter the day before, everything in me just wanted to relax and rest. Despite that, I found myself enjoying the ache and burn more as the day went on, it felt like an accomplishment. At one point Christina came to a stop next to me, her hands braced on her thighs, and her breaths heavy from running. I grinned over at her, knowing I had to be just as flushed and windblown. She laughed, and rolled her eyes at me, panting incredulously,

“Damn Tris, are you even human?”

The phrase twisted somewhere deep in my gut, feeling familiar, but I couldn’t quite grasp why. With a shake of my head, I forced a grin onto my face and rose back upright, taking off at a slow jog. Once I managed to get a few feet away, I looked over my shoulder at her cry of “are you kidding me, more running??” and broke into a fit of breathless laughter.

“Damn, now my secret’s out~”

“..Was that a joke? Get back here, you’re not my Tris!”

Chris chased me all the way back to our bunks; things felt relatively normal, comfortable even, as we rifled through our bags for a clean change of clothes. It was only when we started for the locker rooms that I got a side eye glance, and a serious sort of frown from her, though she softened both with a gentle bump of her hip against mine. I sighed, and let my shoulders slump; all I wanted was a nap and copious amounts of carbs, but then, I never really got what I wanted before, so why would today be any different?

“So, are we gonna talk about what happened this morning?”

“.. _ Nothing _ happened, Christina,”

“I’m not an idiot,  _ Beatrice _ ,” I winced at the use of my name like a weapon, “Stop using your conflict resolution voice on me. It looked like you guys were about to have sex in the damn hallway. I thought you weren’t a  _ thing _ ? Are you just hiding it because I don’t like him?”

“God,  _ no _ that isn’t it! It’s just..” I groaned and dragged a hand down my face, pushing through into the locker room as I tried to decide what part of the truth to tell her, if any. There just wasn’t any way for me to convincingly pass off a full lie - maybe not even a partial one, if I was being honest with myself. 

The room was fairly empty, for which I was thankful. I didn't need any nosy eavesdroppers to make this more uncomfortable. For another long moment there was only the sound of our breathing, before my locker squeaked open, shrill in the silence. When I glanced over to Christina, she was leaning against hers, brows upraised in a silent question. I blanched.

“ _ I _ don’t even know what’s going on, okay?” I ducked my chin, storing my clean clothes in the locker, and pulled out a fresh towel, before finally finding the courage to look her way again. She seemed skeptical, but hadn’t interrupted me yet, so that was..progress, I guess. “I don’t..we’re not,  _ like that _ , I mean there’s not a ‘we’ at all - seriously. I’ve never done anything with Peter, not really anyw--” Too late I caught my slip up, and she did, too. Her eyebrows threatened to disappear entirely into her hairline. In a moment Chris’ hands were on my shoulders and her eyes were wide with curiosity.

“What do you mean, not  _ really _ ?”

I felt my face flush, and wanted nothing more than to disappear into a puddle right then and there, but it was too late, she’d caught a scent of weakness and she wouldn’t let it go until I told her something. I closed my locker stiffly and pressed my back to it, taking a few breaths to try and stall. I had to tell this in a way that made it sound way less horrible than it actually was, but that just..wasn’t possible.

“So I..uh. Remember when I disappeared in the Pit when we’d been drinking?” Her face crumpled into a look I couldn’t quite pin, but it wasn’t good. After a moment, she nodded silently, so I continued, “Well, apparently I’d gotten myself pretty worked up, anger wise, at how horrible Peter was being?” God this was mortifying, “So I..called him.” 

“You drunk dialed  _ Peter _ ?” 

“Yep.” I let the ‘p’ pop uncomfortably, unable to look my best friend in the eye as I hugged my elbows to my chest, “Went about as well as you can imagine. So uh. I.. _ naturally _ I chewed him out. A lot. Don’t know why he didn’t hang up, but..yeah. Somewhere down the line the conversation just..derailed? And we kind of had..” I muttered the word shamefully, too fast, apparently, because Chris was looking at me with her brows knitted, and shook her head,

“You had what? I didn’t catch that.”

“..phone..sex?” I squeaked out, hiding my face in my hands. I could feel the skin burning - admitting it out loud just made everything so, so much worse. Christina was uncharacteristically silent, which sent my anxiety into a fever pitch. I peered between my fingers at her to find a bewildered, almost horrified expression on her face. The yelling would come soon, she’d tell me how despicable I was for doing something like  _ that _ , especially with someone like him.

“Can you..say something?”

“You- with..oh my  _ God _ Tris, what the Hell?” Her words didn’t match the smile on her face at all, she looked a bit like I’d told her I wanted to play dress up or something. Like she was  _ proud _ of me, and honestly I was getting sort of tired of all these people looking at me with pride, like I was their little crowning achievement..but it was better than disgust, I suppose. “You’re just  _ now _ telling me this?! That was months ago!”

“..I only just..remembered it happening,” I cringed, knowing how it would sound.

“Wait you mean he didn’t lord that over your head?” Chris’ forehead was wrinkled from how high her eyebrows were pressing upwards by this point.

“No..he didn’t actually,” I frowned, confused about the fact myself, why  _ hadn’t _ he held that over me? It went perfectly with his whole teasing nature about how I was secretly infatuated with him. “No, he didn’t tell me it happened at all,”

She ran a hand through her hair and huffed out a disbelieving sort of laugh, “That’s..you seriously don’t take the ‘crawl before you walk’ sentiment to heart. I knew you were a freak under all that prudishness,” Chris winked, a coy smile on her face, and I chose to bang my forehead against my locker with a long suffering groan. “I mean I want to be mad, but I'm honestly kind of thrilled you're showing some sort of deviance from the good girl routine - though..to be honest, him doing that while you were  _ that _ drunk, it’s..kinda rapey, isn’t it?”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you!” I flushed, almost as horrified at her suggestion that I was a  _ sex freak _ as I was at her suggesting I got..what, ear raped? “It was..just a one time thing and I barely even  _ remember  _ it, so, not important. Anyway, what I’m saying is there’s  _ nothing _ going on between us - I mean, I don’t..think there is? He’s started acting kind of weird, like, I don’t know--  _ flirty _ weird, and I..” I swallowed hard and mumbled in a softer voice, feeling guilty and dirty for admitting it, “I don’t..hate it, honestly. He’s a slimeball, and I want to break his nose, but..” All I could do was shrug, Chris’ expression softened into pity, which twisted my stomach in ways I didn’t like.

“Honey, you’ve got to find a better guy to moon over, Peter’s just..using you,” 

“He’s not  _ using _ me, that would mean I gave him something  _ to _ use!” Her words made anger boil up in my stomach. The same way her expression did, all swimming with concern. I wasn’t some little kid, sure I didn’t have any real relationship experience to pull on, but I wasn’t an idiot, either. “I know he’s a bad guy, and I don’t plan on doing anything with him, okay?” I hadn’t meant for the words to come off of my tongue sounding so harsh, but Chris took a step back and frowned, looking a little offended. “it's just..harmless banter. You used to do it all the time with strangers.”

“I’m just worried about you is all, Tris. You’re still kind of..innocent, I don’t want you to lose that to some asshole like Peter,” She looked somewhere between worried, and annoyed, like I wasn’t giving her the response she wanted. “We talked about this last night, I care about you, I don’t want to see you hurt - I mean God, if he  _ likes _ you he wouldn’t have tried to kill you yesterday. You have to know that, right?” 

Ouch.

I scoffed, the anger growing to a boiling point, “I’m an adult, I’m fully capable of protecting myself, okay? So please,  _ stop _ treating me like a kid!” I snapped, eyes wide and mouth set into a hard frown, “You think I don’t know those things? I just told you,  _ twice _ , Peter is a psychopath, I’m not crawling in bed with him! Just stop. Drop it..” 

The look on her face twisted my heart, but before I could apologize, or soften the words, I turned on my heel and stormed into the showers, leaving her standing there with her mouth ajar.   
  


* * *

 

 

I ate dinner alone, Chris and Will sat with Uriah and didn’t even try to join me, but I didn’t mind. It gave me time to think, and I managed to have an entire meal without any interruptions. I couldn’t really tell you what I ate, or how it tasted, but it was a nice break from all the stress I’d been dealing with. When I got back to the dorms, they were blissfully empty, so I curled up on my bunk with the full intent of getting a quick nap in before training with Eric that evening. 

Just as the warm, cozy feeling of sleep pulled at my aching body, I felt a weight dip next to my head. I groaned internally, wishing that just  _ once _ , I could have a plan that actually worked, but upon opening my eyes I realized that  _ no _ , I absolutely couldn’t. A familiar pair of deep green eyes were boring into mine. Peter was standing by my bunk, his forearms pressed against the bed and his chin resting atop them. He looked like this was absolutely natural, like he was comfortable here, did this all the time. I felt like someone had touched me with a live wire.

“Do you mind? I was trying to sleep.”

“Mm. No I don’t mind, go ahead, I’ll just keep standing here,” His words were dripping with sarcasm, honey sweet. Hating him was almost scarily easy. When I didn’t relax, or speak, he sighed with a half cocked smile and stood up straight, though his arms stayed folded on my bed. “No? Well in that case,” He paused, one of his hands stretching out towards me before his fingers brushed over my forearm, feather light. Peter’s eyes stayed on me the whole time, challenging me silently. “You wouldn’t mind having a little chat, now, would you?” 

I hated the shiver that broke through me, “What do you want, Peter?” I scowled, sitting up suddenly and scooting back away from his touch so my knees were pressed to my chest. Nothing good could come from letting him touch me so callously. He raised his brows and fixed me with a strange look I couldn't quite decipher, nostrils flaring. After a moment, though, he smirked, and rested his chin on his forearms again, head tilted to the side slightly. My moving didn’t seem to put the point across, because his hand just reached forward once more, fingers dancing a line over my ankle. I scowled, regretting my choice in switching to shorts after training; I could easily feel how warm, and rough his hand was.

“You said you remembered,” He started, his words measured, like he didn’t want me to know what he was thinking, and maybe he didn’t. He’d almost seemed like he had a heart in his letter to me, and on the phone he’d told me how badly he wanted to..No. No I wasn’t going there. My face flared with heat and Peter’s lips parted into a wolfish grin that was in no way attractive, or did anything at all to my heart rate. 

“You  _ do  _ remember. Interesting.” His fingers danced up my calf to my bent knee, thumb swiping slow, lazy circles there. “So you know everything, huh?” Was that a hint of hope behind all his sarcasm and anger? I swallowed hard, staring him down as his palm brushed the inside of my knee, long fingers reaching to my thigh. I couldn't bring myself to move it.

“I know what  _ you _ say, can’t exactly believe you,” I silently cursed at the breathless tone of my voice. It felt like fire was igniting in my veins, and it was all Peter’s fault. He clicked his tongue and raised his brows at me, mouth dipping into a half frown, all the while his hand inched itself further, palm now resting on my inner thigh, and I still hadn’t stopped him. My traitorous body actually parted its legs without my permission, albeit only enough to let him move freely, but it was still mortifying. 

“I don’t really gain anything from lying, and making myself look weak to you, now do I?” His thumb brushed my stomach, and for some reason  _ that _ woke me up. I squeezed my legs together, tight enough to make him flinch, and gripped his wrist, only relaxing my thighs once I could pull the offending appendage away from me. Instead of anger, amusement swept over his face, and it made me want to punch him. My fingers were circled around his wrist, holding it suspended between us.

“I don’t believe for a minute that this isn’t some kind of angle,”

“You have serious trust issues, Tris,” I flinched, not sure I liked him calling me by my nickname, even if I’d told him to use it in the past. This was different. It made me feel like we were friends, or something, which wasn’t at all true. I bit my cheek and shrugged, it wasn’t like I could argue with him, exactly, but I couldn’t tell him that he’d tried to kill me, either. His eyes flickered from my face to the way I was still holding his wrist, which caused me to drop it like I’d been stung. “You should trust me,” Was that vulnerability in his voice a ploy, or did he really want me to try seeing him as more than a monster?

“No you shouldn’t, and you should leave her  _ alone _ , Peter.” Chris’ voice was venomous. I’d never heard her sound so violent before. A dark expression crossed over his face as Peter stood upright, dropping his arms to his sides. He glanced to the doorway she was hovering in with a cocky smirk that I was horrified to find I  _ knew _ was fake. It wasn’t his regular level confidence, and when exactly had I gotten so good at reading Peter Hayes of all people? 

“I mean you basically  _ molested _ her over a phone call when she was too drunk to know better, you’re not exactly the poster boy for trust - and you did kind of try and strangle her to death, why would she  _ ever _ trust you?” Peter flinched, making me feel weirdly guilty. “Oh and let's not get  _ started _ on the bribery to force her on a date, or how you made her cry her eyes out afterwards,” Peter’s eyes widened marginally, and it occurred to me that he probably wouldn’t have guessed that I cried, not with how  _ angry _ I’d been when I told him to leave. He looked at me strangely for a moment, but I stared at Chris instead.

After an awkward moment of staring, I cleared my throat and pushed myself out of the bed, unwittingly putting myself between Peter and Christina. I hadn’t even hesitated before turning my back on him, there wasn’t any fear that he might try to hurt me, and I didn’t want to think about what that meant.

“Chris, I told you, I can take care of myself - I know you’re just trying to be a good friend--” 

“Oh, do you? Because I’m starting to think you don’t know  _ anything _ about being a good friend. You’ll shut Al down like he’s got the plague, but you let this scumbag touch you? Talk to you like that? I’m starting to think..” She paused, brows furrowing angrily, “I don’t know you at all.” 

“Woah, uncalled for,” Peter grunted, trying to sound lighthearted, but I could hear the venom under it. “If this is your idea of friends, Tris, you might think about getting new ones,” He murmured, pressing his fingers against my forearm. That made Christina’s nostrils flare, but she didn’t look at him, she looked straight at me and glared.

“I’ve tried to warn you, but you’re too stubborn to listen, so I’m not going to keep trying. When you get your head out of your ass, and realize that Peter’s  _ pathetic _ and doesn’t care about you, you can come and apologize for being an idiot!” 

“Chris! It isn’t like that! I just-” I stopped, scowling, I was torn between not wanting to lose her, and not being talked to like she had.  _ I _ could apologize? I’d done nothing wrong! How could she just turn on me like this? Except..I shouldn’t have been surprised, not really. I’d seen it happen before, when I excelled and she didn’t - she’d been pretty catty then, too. My heart ached at the thought of losing her, but my pride refused to bow down. I couldn’t say anything, and she looked a little more sad than angry at the prospect, but stormed off all the same. It wasn’t until she was gone that the warmth of Peter’s hand on my arm, his chest on my back, hit me and I spun around to face him with a scowl to end all scowls.

“Oh don’t give me that face - you can’t possibly blame me for your poor taste in companions. She’s clearly manipulative, I was just trying to-”

“That’s rich, coming from you!” A huff of a laugh passed my lips as I cut him off, and Peter visibly tensed at the sound, but I ignored that, “You just can’t be happy until you ruin my entire life, can you? I’m going to leave and go  _ train _ , since that's all I can do right as of now. Do me a favor and leave. Me. Alone.” I all but growled, stomping my foot for emphasis. His entire demeanor changed almost instantly. 

There was that darkness in his expression, the rage from this morning, it sent a chill up my spine. I took a step away from him, but he followed it, gripping my bicep.

“Train with who?” 

“God, not this again! None of your business, you’re overstepping, Peter. Let go.”

“Who. Are you. Training with?” He all but growled, his eyebrows twitching upwards with each over-stressed syllable, the grip  on my arm tightening until it was almost painful. The anger in my stomach flared up, boiling and threatening to consume me. Who the hell did he think he was? Christina, Will, Al and now  _ Peter _ all acted like they  _ owned _ me, that I owed them my existence on a silver platter without any secrets. I wasn’t going to cow to her, and I  _ certainly _ wasn’t going to submit to Peter, either.

“Let go.” I warned again, quietly, eyes narrowed. He squeezed harder, so I growled out a quiet yell and struck at his wrist with my fingers extended in a chopping motion. He winced, but drove me backwards until I hit the wall, just like he’d done this morning. His eyes were dark, mouth set into a hard frown. “Stop it,” I hissed up at him, but he sneered.

“Tell me who it is, Tris. Who’s putting his hands on you? Who’s doing  _ this _ \--”  Peter gripped my jaw with his free hand, almost hard enough to hurt, but only to expose my throat and the bruises there.

That was it. The uncomfortably possessive tone in his voice, the way he crowded my space, as though he could intimidate the truth out of me, I snapped. My foot came down hard on the toes of his shoe and he flinched, stepping back to lift it with a pained expression. I spun away from him and ducked out of the dorms with a huff. What the hell his problem was, I didn’t know, but I did know I wasn’t going to stick around to find out. My jaw and bicep tingled, and I could feel pulse throbbing where his fingers had been.

I ran all the way to the training room, only stopping once the door had been slammed behind me. Eric was leaning against a pillar, but looked up with genuine shock when I barreled in, his mouth open in a silent question. I puffed out a breath at his inquisitive stare.

“You’re eager,” He stated in a flat, almost accusatory tone before shoving away from his pillar.

“Just..lock the door, and let’s get started..” 

To my surprise he didn’t argue.   
  


* * *

 

 

Training with Eric was just as intense and terrifying as it had been the night before, but it came easier to me than I’d have expected, and everything else became clockwork. That morning when I got out of bed, Chris was already up and gone while Peter was fast asleep, and when I made it to breakfast, I found my friends together eating. None of them waved in greeting except for Uriah, so I ate alone and worked towards avoiding Peter. With that came a system, during training I either stood alone, or with Uriah, which seemed to please Eric, but irritate Peter. I fell into a routine.

With Christina (And, by extension, Will and Al) not talking to me, I would rise early, eat by myself or with Zeke if he found me, all while dodging Peter, and go through the daily training regimes set out for us. After would be my sparring sessions with Eric, and then I’d crawl into bed and almost instantly fall asleep.  It was depressing, and I missed my friends, but I wasn’t ready to talk to any of them. They expected me to apologize, and I’d done nothing to warrant one. This went on for a week - Christina and I had to spar twice, I beat her once, she beat me once, and when I fought with Will he tried to be friendly, but it never panned out. I wasn’t paired up with Al or Peter at all. At the end of the week we were given a break, and permission to leave the academy, to celebrate surviving our first week of training. 

At first I entertained the idea of staying in, catching up on sleep, or training alone in the practice room, but then I watched Chris leaving with Al and Will, her arms looped around each of their waists; it made something sour and hurt inside of me writhe uncomfortably. That was how I found myself dressed up in a pair of dark, tight fitting clothes that Chris had picked for me what felt like ages ago, queuing up outside The Pit entirely alone. Once I was surrounded by so many people, I felt regret itching at my brain, urging me to go back, but I pushed through regardless.

Walking into the building I’d come to know as home in another life was a bit jarring now that I  _ knew _ . The last time I’d been here it had seemed vaguely familiar, but now..it was like walking into an old school - the halls were similar, but I didn’t recognize the faces, or the decorations. It only made my alienation feel that much worse. Without meaning to. my eyes drifted over the Chasm, and I felt a knot twist itself agonizingly tight in my gut. I’d almost died there. I didn’t linger, couldn’t allow myself to become wrapped up in memories that weren’t supposed to exist, so I made a beeline for the bar. 

Originally, I’d planned to buy drinks for my friends, but somehow that turned into sitting on a stool, drinking alone instead of going to them. When it came down to it, the ball of anger and betrayal in my chest wasn’t quite as easy to ignore as I’d first imagined. Even from here I could see the three of them up in one of the booths, drinking and laughing up a storm. Jealousy burned in my throat, and had me ordering another round. My attention shifted from my drink when I felt someone move to sit beside me - without thinking, I turned with a scowl, fully prepared to tell whoever it was to leave me alone - only find Peter there. My words died in my throat.

He looked nice, nicer than he had for the last week of training, anyway. He’d worn a soft looking sweater that complimented the muscles I knew were beneath it, and his cologne was painfully familiar to me, even mixed in with the smells of a hundred other people’s perfumes and colognes. I cursed at the fluttering feeling in my stomach.

We’d been in this situation before. Sort of. He’d looked downright dismal on his stool, and we hadn’t been this close - hadn’t talked at all, actually - and if I was being honest, seeing him here didn’t annoy me nearly as much as it had back then; a fact which irritated me enough to make up for the lack of hostility. I pursed my lips while he opened his, unsurprisingly, and spoke loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Still having trouble in paradise, huh?” He spoke into his glass, glancing at me from under his lids in what I could only imagine was a practiced look of disinterest. It made him seem like a snob, and I didn’t miss the way he pointedly looked up in the direction I knew my friends were sitting, “Seems like they’re having fun,” I scowled and looked back at my glass,  _ there _ was that trademark anger that he could ignite so easily in me. At least, if nothing else, I had that as a constant in my life; my unadulterated hatred for Peter.

“You here to gloat?”

“What’s there to gloat about?”

“Oh I dunno, how I’m a stubborn brat, how all my friends hate me, or only  _ I _ could be caught drinking alone in such a crowded place? Maybe throw in an age joke, while you’re at it.” That made him raise his brow, but he didn’t answer until all the liquid was drained from his cup. He grimaced, but turned it into a smile - an honest to goodness  _ smile _ without menace or anything behind it. I frowned.

“Tch. You’re projecting, Prior.” He clucked his tongue, but then furrowed his brows and added in a tone that was bordering on..something. I didn’t want to think about what. “You’ve got serious self-esteem issues, you should work on that.”

I snorted into my glass, finishing it off and pushing the empty container towards the bartender in hopes of a refill. “You’d be to blame for a lot of it, y’know,” I grunted out, then froze, horrified that I’d said it out loud. I’d admitted a weakness, admitted that  _ he _ had made me weaker, which surely didn’t bode well for me in the future. When I looked his way, Peter didn’t look pleased, mostly he just looked perplexed. For a long moment he squinted at me, but then he rolled his shoulders in a shrug and took a sip off of his refilled drink.

“That might be true, although I have to say, self pity isn’t a good look on you.”

“Oh, because I’m  _ so _ concerned with what you think is a good look for me,” 

“You’re wearing your hair down.” 

“And?” I flinched when Peter’s hand moved towards me, thinking he meant to do something awful, but instead he just tucked a long string of hair back out of my face, his calloused fingers brushing against the shell of my ear in the process. I bit down the urge to shiver, opting to scowl at him instead.

“You were wearing it down the night we..” He paused, smirking, and looked me up and down slowly, which caused heat to rise to my face, “had our little chat.” It felt a little like I’d been sucker punched, all my air rushed out in one fell  _ woosh _ , and I was left dealing with the implications of that  _ chat _ . The one that, for me, had happened in this very bar. My mouth felt dry, all of a sudden, and I couldn’t look at Peter. His expression was too intense to deal with.

“I could’ve been lying,” I muttered morosely into my cup - thank you, quiet bartender -, tipping it back with a grimace as the liquid burned my nose and throat. It was making things a little fuzzy at the edges, which I should probably have been a little more apprehensive of, given my track record for terrible, horrible life choices that involved drinking and Peter Hayes. I couldn’t bring myself to care, honestly. Peter laughed quietly from beside me, a deep, rumbly kind of chuckle that didn’t hold any malice, and  _ that _ kind of made me feel a little fuzzy, too.

“Do you laugh for everyone like that, or just me?” I wanted to grab the words as soon as I’d said them, my fingers flew up to cover my mouth, but the damage was done. Peter hissed beside me and went rigid for a moment; I considered running right then and there, just booking it all the way back to the academy and hiding, but instead I just sat there, turning to look at him. He looked unsure, maybe a little anxious, and those were vulnerable, unusual things to see on a face that almost always was composed and controlled in some kind of sneer. It made him seem..human.

“Is this where your dream took place..?” And if I wasn’t just  _ full _ of stupid, embarrassing questions tonight. Shit. Peter’s eyes snapped up to my face, widening marginally before his lids fell and hooded them into a cocky expression that was just so much more..Peter. I scowled, swirling the last contents of my glass and trying not to look at him. Which, honestly, just turned into me stealing glances at him in the mirror behind the bar, watching him stare at me. This was the most quiet I’d ever seen him, and for once all I wanted was to hear him talk. Berate me, say something awful to remind me that I hated him.

“Yeah. Right here, actually.” He finally muttered, his voice a few octaves lower, but I wasn’t as focused on that as I was the hand resting on my knee. My whole body went still as stone, slowly I forced myself to look at him properly, not his reflection, but  _ him _ . His lips were parted, eyes nearly black in the low light, and his blown pupils weren’t helping matters. He looked severe, and god help me, gorgeous. I bit the inside of my cheek and cleared my throat when the silent staring went on for too long, tearing my eyes away from his slow growing smile only to find that I’d finished off my drink again. Huh. Peter’s fingers ghosted up my leg, similar to how he’d done in the dorm before Christina and I had our fight.

Alarm bells were blaring, all instincts told me to rip his hand away and run for cover, instead, I turned to face him, leaning one elbow on the bar, and scowling harder. I didn’t trust Peter, not so far as I could throw him, but it felt like my skin was on fire where he touched me, and that was through an entire layer of denim. My heart was in my throat, pulsing a rapid tattoo, and his hand shifted up higher in a slow crawl. His eyes never left my face, expression twisted into some kind of challenge.

“I think..I need some air,” My voice sounded foreign to me, unusually high and a little sluggish, but Peter only smirked and squeezed my leg gently before letting it go altogether. He pushed himself to his feet and tossed some bills on the counter, I followed suit, and then he was walking towards the Chasm. A little knot of anxiety was building, threatening to overcome this weird, hazy feeling that had me all but  _ floating _ along.  _ This is Peter _ , my brain supplied for my legs as they followed him, sounding eerily like Christina, _ this is the guy who tried to kill you _ , and yet I was still walking. He crossed the bridge before I did, standing on the other side with upraised brows that made little wrinkles appear on his forehead.

I crossed over the water below with only minimal trembling, managing to stay upright and continue, despite who was waiting for me on the other side. What was I doing? Why was I following him into..into the one place I’d never been with another person, into a place designed for the kinds of things I’d never been interested in  _ doing _ ? More importantly, why did it feel like my whole body was coursing with electricity? I tripped over a half buried rock in my distraction, and winced. I was too inebriated to throw my arms up properly, so this was going to hurt  _ and _ make me look stupid.

My eyes closed tight as I prepared for impact with the hard, dirty ground, but instead my face hit something soft, that smelled of cigarettes and cedar. Peter’s arms looped themselves around my shoulders and held me to his chest, and I wondered briefly if this counted as a hug, which made me laugh a little hysterically. We’d never even  _ hugged _ and here I was following him to some abandoned alcove to..what? Could I really let myself do this?

I pulled back a few inches to look up into his face, Peter was smirking down at me, which twisted in my gut somewhere between rage and affection. He tilted his head, brow furrowing again, and I swallowed hard, trying to determine what was going on in his head. He hated me as much as I hated him, right? People who hated one another didn’t end up like this. I grimaced, my head swimming, it was hard to find logic when that fuzzy, warm buzz was still tingling just under the surface. Peter cocked a brow at me.

“Having second thoughts?” He seemed to realize he was still holding me and stepped back, letting me stand upright on my own. I missed his warmth, but he wouldn’t get me to admit that. I screwed my mouth up into a thin line, and placed my hands on my hips with what I hoped was a determined sort of frown. I wanted to run in the opposite direction almost as badly as I wanted to be close to him. Maybe if I let myself do this, I’d be over it. I’d get the feeling out of my system and I’d be able to go back to hating him without all the other..complicated things I was dealing with.

“Like I’m going to back down and get called a coward,” I snarked, aiming for humor but sounding defensive. It looked like I’d struck a sensitive spot, Peter winced.

“..You know you don’t.. _have_ to do anything, right?” 

Wait. What? Was that..concern? Peter looked vaguely uncomfortable suddenly, something that wasn’t normal in any instance. Peter was  _ always  _ comfortable, always confident, and cocky, and he  _ definitely _ didn’t care about what anyone else wanted unless it directly benefited him, yet here we were. He was glaring, and looking like he might snap something terrible to make up for what he’d just said, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d just cared, even if only a little. That wasn’t..so weird, though, right? Terrible as he was, he didn’t exactly come off as rapey - and maybe he didn’t want anyone else to think he was, either.

I ran a hand through my hair and groaned, all of this thinking was giving me a headache, I was tired of over analyzing, and trying to figure out angles, benefits, pros and cons. I didn’t want to probe Peter for his weaknesses, that was his expertise, not mine, and right then I just wanted..what? What did I want? I looked up at him and frowned, there was a deep bruise along his jawline that he’d earned in training, and felt the urge to touch it, press in and watch the way he’d cringe.

Without thinking about it, I crossed the distance, one hand fisted in the front of his sweater, and did just that. I pressed hard against the dark purple spot, causing him to hiss through his teeth, but where I expected to find irritation or anger in his face when I looked up, I saw..reverence - hunger. It sent a shock of electricity down my spine, which turned to fire when his fingers came up to my neck. The bruises there were fairly fresh, while I was handling being strangled better, Eric still hadn’t let go of my fear of it. I didn’t feel any semblance of fear - or disgust - when Peter touched them, squeezing gently at first.

His eyes were burning with anger, and something else I couldn’t quite put a name to. Dark, dangerous. He pressed harder, and pain twinged at my nerves, I grimaced and bit my tongue, unsure of how we got here, how we could both possibly be so screwed up, because normal people didn’t hurt one another like this - not while looking as wrecked as I was sure we looked. Peter swallowed hard and dragged his fingers down my neck, landing on my collarbone over my tattoo. 

Just like that, he pulled away and started walking again, leaving me standing on my own, only a few feet from the Chasm. My heart was lodged in my throat, and it felt like my skin might actually catch fire soon. How the hell had he done all that with one stupid touch? Biting my lip, I considered going back, running, because everything about Peter was bad. Terrifying, and intense, and wholly  _ terrible _ , but I was starting to not mind that. I was too selfish to turn back, even for my own sanity. So I followed. Peter never even turned back, like he knew I wouldn’t leave, the bastard.

To my horror, and excitement, he was waiting for me in almost the same spot I’d been in the night of the call. Had I told him exactly where I was? Surely not. But there he stood, all the same, leaned back against the wall with his hands in his pockets, watching me with a crooked smirk that pulled his features into something wholly pleasant. I needed to run, get out while I still stood a fighting chance, but my legs didn’t much care about that. I stopped once I was a few inches away from him, suddenly unsure. Everything from this point on was uncharted territory, after all.

“I..” He stopped, frowning, and tried again. His voice was gravelly and dark, making me shiver despite myself, “I need to hear it from you, that..you actually want-” Another pause, more uncertainty. I found myself at odds, on one hand this nervousness in him was endearing, and on the other it was almost..irritating, but then, that was Peter. He would always be  _ some _ kind of irritating. 

“That I actually want you..” I swallowed hard, feeling the flush of blood on my cheeks, “to touch me..? Because..I do, I want that.” Damn it. My voice wasn’t strong, or confident, like I’d wanted it to be, but it clearly had an effect on him all the same. Peter’s mouth opened to let out a soft, strangled noise, and I found my back pressed against the cold wall of the alcove, Peters hands on either side of my head. The left corner of his mouth ticked up into a smirk.

“Fuck, Prior-- T-Tris.” I hissed, looking down, his face was too much, he was looking at me too strongly. “I want..” He paused, one hand trailing down to press at my throat again, and I should have felt fear, should have felt like I was in danger, or needed to run, but I just felt  _ ruined _ . His hand was hot, next to him my skin was like ice, and I found myself leaning into the touch, which made another of those low grunts to pass Peter’s lips. “I..fuck, you actually like that..?” He whispered, sounding unsure, like he’d expected me to protest. I pressed my lips together and forced my eyes up to his face, and if I  _ felt _ ruined, he looked destroyed.

His cheeks were flushed, eyes glazed, unable to decide between looking at me and looking at my bruises. I pressed into his touch again, moving a hand to fist the front of his sweater once more. My other hand snaked its way up the back of his neck, fingers buried in his curls, and they were exactly as soft as I’d thought they would be. Words failed me, so I opted for nodding slowly, instead. The pressure of his fingertips over the tender bruises made my nerves sing, all I could compare it to was the almost enjoyable burn in my muscles after a long, gratifying run. It sent pulses of heat through my veins, and I choked off a sob.

Peter pressed in close to me, his lips against the hollow of my throat, and he bit down, ripping a yelp from my lips. It wasn’t gentle, but he didn’t hurt me necessarily. Again I was struck with just how odd all of this was, how much I should have wanted it to be normal, I hadn’t even had a real first kiss before, and here I was with Peter’s teeth on my throat, destroying my sanity and self preservation in one fell swoop. It felt..right somehow. Like this was the kind of person I was, like nervous kisses and awkward hand holding weren’t in my range of understanding.

His teeth gave way to a hot, open mouthed kiss at my pulse point, Peter’s tongue laving at the sensitive skin he’d just bitten, and I gripped a handful of his hair without meaning to in response, a sharp breath escaping my lungs. Fuck. My knees felt weak, trembling when he drew his lips back into another bite, it was going to leave a mark, I knew it would. He growled low in his throat, the hand by my head dropping to grab my waist, and trailed hot, wet kisses all the way up to my ear, where he hovered, breathing heavily. It felt like there were needles all over my skin, pricking and tingling at each nerve.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, Tris,” He whimpered in my ear - _ whimpered! -  _  and pressed in close, so that his chest was nearly crushing mine, and nipped at my earlobe, which, woah. I didn’t even know earlobes  _ could _ be sexual, but it sent a shock wave from my neck all the way down to the apex of my thighs and I moaned, embarrassed at the sound, but that seemed to encourage him. Peter pressed his forehead to my temple, sounding like he’d run a mile when he’d only barely started touching me, but I felt the same. 

“I wanted to push you into my bed and cover you in bruises that night, you looked so fucking good in my room,” And now that he was talking, painting pictures for me, I realized with a shudder that..maybe I’d wanted that too. Somewhere deep down. “Say my name, fuck, please, please say it,” Peter whined, pressing himself against me so that I could feel, without a doubt, exactly what this was doing to him. If the warm wetness between my legs was any indicator, my body was fully agreeing with him.

I swallowed hard, my throat making a quiet clicking noise in the process, and tried to say it, but it was just so  _ embarrassing _ . Here he was, gushing his fantasies unabashed, and I couldn’t even say his name. Peter’s mouth latched onto my ear lobe before he bit softly at the skin, and apparently that was all I needed, because a breathy, weak, “ _ Fuck, _ Peter,” slipped past my lips without my permission. The grip on my waist tightened. He drew his head back from my ear and pressed his forehead to mine, eyes closed, and I let mine fall shut, too. Both of us chased for our lost breath, overwhelmed, so it came as a bit of a shock when I heard a soft, angry voice snap,

“What the  _ fuck _ Tris?” Christina. Shit.

“God damn it,” Peter growled under his breath, and I had to agree.

“Wow, really? That’s..you picked  _ him _ ? Guess all that denial before was just bullshit, huh Tris?” That was Al, and oh God no. This wasn’t good. Peter’s entire body went rigid, his grip almost painful, and suddenly I felt like I was in the middle of a tsunami. I opened my eyes to see Christina, Al and Will, looking disgusted, livid, and embarrassed respectively. 

“I’m gonna kill you, Peter!” 

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY. One of these days the two of them won't get cockblocked, but right now Chris and Al are team ruin-everything.
> 
> So now we've got the split between Chris and Tris to deal with, and of course, the impending violence. <3 Can't wait to get the next chapter up, as always thank you for all your support and I appreciate all of you!


	7. Absquatulate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Absquatulate
> 
> (v) to leave without saying goodbye; the French exit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one month? Hoo boy I'm on a roll! 
> 
> This one is a bit of a whirlwind, and I'm going to leave a warning here, there are mentions of suicide in this chapter, so if that's an issue for you you'll want to skip the first section that has a break in it down to the end of it. 
> 
> For everyone else, enjoy!
> 
> OH also, I got a new tablet, so of course the first thing I did with it was draw some Petris angst for this, so if you're interested in seeing that feel free to check it out over on my [ tumblr](http://jolteonmobster.tumblr.com/post/169671327699/first-art-of-the-new-year-oops-done-for-a-fic-of).

Al was flying at Peter before I could really do anything about it, other than roll out of the way a few seconds before Peter’s chest - and face - slammed into the wall I’d been pressed to moments before. Had Al been willing to crush me beneath him, if I hadn’t moved? Peter wheezed out a breath, - the impact seemed to have knocked the wind out of him entirely - and I felt an urge to defend him from Al’s strikes that I didn’t want to look too closely at. I knew this was a big deal - if I chose Peter’s side here, I was going to be accused of picking him over my friends, but watching Al draw blood from his lip, hearing the sound that escaped him as it happened, twisted at something inside of me that might have been what I loved about Abnegation. A selfish itch to help, despite the consequences. Despite  _ who _ I was helping.

With a groan, Peter rolled himself around, pressing his spine to the wall, but he didn’t throw his hands up to strike or defend, he just took in his surroundings slowly. His eyes weren’t on Al, though, he was looking at me, a resigned expression on his face, and somehow  _ that’s _ what tipped the scales -  _ that  _ made me want to act. The thought that Peter might actually believe I’d let him -or anyone - be thrown around like that, just because the person doing it was one of my friends, twisted in my stomach. I didn’t understand why he wasn’t fighting back - maybe Al had surprised him before, but I’d seen him fight, had  _ personally _ fought him. Peter was fast, he could have dodged the blows Al was throwing his way, but he let the impacts hit. I scowled, finally finding my voice,

“Al, stop it!” I dove in, gripping his forearm mid swing, and putting him off balance, “Stop, if you’re going to hit someone, hit  _ me _ !” I don’t know why I said it, but my voice was frantic, “I’m the one you’re mad at, I’m the one that keeps turning you down, right?” Al’s body was stiff as he looked to me, eyes wide and angry, face flushed red with rage. Peter was leaning back against the alcove, quietly observing, while Al continued looking at me like I’d just stabbed him.

“You’re picking  _ his _ side?!” Christina cried out from behind me when Al said nothing, storming up next to me with her eyes narrowed and her mouth set into a scowl that could rival even mine. “We’ve been here for you  _ forever _ and Peter, what? He’s a good fuck? He doesn’t  _ care _ about you, we do! Stop pushing us away..”

That made Peter laugh, cackle, even, and all three of our heads snapped to his direction. His cheek was busted open below his left eye, as was his lower lip;  even with everything going on, I wanted to kiss his mouth, blood and all. That was something I shoved deep into the back of my mind for later consideration, for right now I was just confused at the laughter. He shook his head and swallowed with an audible click.

“Shit. You’re jealous, that’s so cute.” He muttered through chuckles, and I groaned; if he started antagonizing them, I couldn’t defend him. This was about stopping Al from hurting him when Peter..technically had done nothing wrong. This time. That was a difficult thought to wrap my head around. “ _ You _ care about her,” He grunted, gesturing to Will, “but I dunno about those two,” Chris strode forward into his face, pressing her forearm over his throat.

“For once in your  _ stupid _ life, shut up, Peter. No one cares what new, idiotic thing you have to say, just stop talking while you’re ahead!” To my surprise he still laughed, and the look on his face was familiar. He had this kind of..smugness about him - like he had something over everyone’s heads, and I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to know what that was. His voice was cold, which wasn’t good for anyone involved. That was the tone he used to hurt people, I’d had it used on myself too many times to count.

“Hah. As though I ever say anything idiotic,” He hissed in pain when Christina used her free arm to punch him in the stomach, snickering through a pained kind of grunt,“Couldn’t resist. Seriously, though, how can you say you care about Tris  _ so much _ , that you’re all worried for her sweet sweet  _ innocence _ ,” I frowned, looking at him sharply. How did he know about that conversation? “What? Molly’s good at being sneaky when she wants,” It wasn’t an apology, exactly, more like an explanation. More like he was  _ bragging. _

I wondered how much of that conversation was relayed, did he know I’d called him a psychopath? That I’d said I liked flirting with him? Surely he did, knowing Molly she would have been tickled to tell him, so they could laugh about it in private - or in public, honestly. That had been a week ago, though, and I hadn't been bothered by the terrible trio at all. Odd.

“Your boy back there, the one so  _ worried _ about poor little Tris getting hurt, he used to--” Peter’s voice cut off in a genuinely pained grunt as Al lurched forward, and drove a fist into his face; I hadn’t been able to do anything about it, Al had slipped out of my grip without even trying. There was an audible  _ crunch _ of fist meeting bone, and the following  _ thunk _ of bone meeting stone had me feeling secondhand agony for him. For a long moment all Peter could do was wheeze in ragged, sharp breaths, and blink as though dazed, but I was watching him closely now. Two parts curiosity, one part concern, because even if I'd dreamed of beating him bloody, now that it was happening all I could feel was  _ wrong _ , and I wasn't even guilty of hurting him.

What had Al done that was bad enough he didn’t want Peter repeating it? If it was about interrupting the phone call, I already knew about that, and it hadn’t been that big of a deal - not big enough to warrant the way Peter was pleased enough with himself not to be pissed over being ganged up on like this. Despite the pain, he looked like the cat that got the canary, and loathe as I was to admit it, I was a little impressed. No one could ever say he wasn’t tough.

“Guys, maybe we should just..back off? This is getting a little too close to illegal - you’ve roughed him up, just let him go.” Will’s anxious voice came from behind us, and I suddenly felt sorry that he was wrapped up in all of this. I shot him a small, appreciative smile, and he managed to smile back, though he still looked wholly uncomfortable with the entire situation. I didn’t blame him, I was pretty uncomfortable, too.

“Will, I know you’re just trying to be the good guy here, but stop. Peter’s a menace, he needs to learn a lesson.” Al snapped angrily, it was maybe the most I’d heard him talk in a while, honestly, and each word just made my stomach burn more and more. Christina shot him a strange look, frowning, like she wanted to come to Will’s defense, but that would mean backing off Peter, which obviously wasn’t something she wanted to do. Her entire frame was tense, now, though.

“Let Peter talk.” Christina’s head snapped around to look at me so fast I worried she might have gotten whiplash from it, but I didn’t back down. “I want to know what he has to say.” He deserved the right to speak his peace, even if it  _ was _ Peter, “You’re good at picking up on lies, right? If he’s lying, you’ll probably know it, so what harm comes from letting him talk? You’ve clearly already got the upper hand,” I crossed my arms over my chest and tried not to sound too annoyed by that fact. Peter’s eyes found mine, and I bit the inside of my cheek, there was a quiet sort of thanks in his gaze that set my stomach to flip flopping.

Christina thinned her lips into a line before her frame slumped a bit. She sighed, that same almost wounded look on her face, but slowly, hesitantly, she nodded. Al made a choked noise that had everyone's attention on him, he looked a bit like a trapped animal.

“Why give him a chance to lie?? It’s Peter, are you guys forgetting how good he is at it? He’s a manipulative bastard, Chris!”

“Well,  _ you've _ gotten tons of chances to lie, big guy. I'm just here to tell a little bit of truth, are you that scared?” Peter clucked his tongue disapprovingly, looking back to me with a blank expression. I didn't like that, on the surface he seemed smug enough, but now that I knew what to look for, it was a bit disconcerting to see him hiding.

“Get on with it, then, and Al, keep your hands to yourself - I  _ mean _ it.” Chris’ tone was dark with warning, and I wondered if she thought his behavior was as suspicious as I did, what with how violently defensive he was being over the whole thing. That was basic psychology, and she'd excelled in Psych. Al scowled, looking like he’d swallowed something foul, but didn’t say anything else.

 

“Are we done with interrupting me? Because you seem to have a pretty impressive talent at that--”

“Peter!” I snapped, already regretting the decision to let him speak, and from the look on Christina’s face, she was, too. She at the very least took a few steps away from him, giving him some room to breathe. He stopped to rub his neck, glowering in her direction, and I wondered for a moment if he was counting that as something he’d need to pay back. I hoped not, I didn’t want him to hurt her, even if she was being pigheaded and controlling about all of this.

“Fine, fine, take all the fun out of it,” He grunted, looking for all the world like this was boring him, but his shoulders were rigid and his jaw was clenched, so that couldn’t have been wholly true. “Well, guess the cat’s out of the bag, Tris. Loverboy here is the whole reason Molly, Drew, and I started giving you so much trouble in the first place a few months ago.” Peter’s tone was dripping with smugness, and maybe just a touch of indignation. For a long moment I just looked at him, brows knitted together, and waited for him to say more. My entire body was tense, ready to pounce, as I tried to understand what that could have meant.

“I’m sorry? You’re going to need to elaborate a little more,” Christina all but snapped, and I worried that maybe Peter was going to push too far, but more than that, I needed to know what he meant. If he was shut down before he could say anything of stock, well..I’d have nothing to go on for my lack of trust in Al, other than memories no one else shared. I bit my cheek and met his eyes, trying to silently push the message across to back off. Now was not the time.

“Exactly what I said, genius. Clearly I’ve never been a fan of Prior,-” Peter paused to meet my eyes, brows upraised and that smug expression back in place, but his eyes were still empty, “you’re a snobby little know it all, goody-goody, all that,” He waved his hand with a scoff and a roll of his eyes, but barreled on before he could be interrupted. The insults barely even phased me at this point, it was nothing I didn't already know, after all.

“Given that, it wasn’t exactly a  _ push _ to imagine us making her life a living Hell, but there wasn’t anything to gain by putting that much effort into some nobody. I mean, not until this one here,” He waved towards Al in a dismissive gesture - I noted that Al’s whole face was red, and there was a vein popping in the side of his neck, “Came along and offered me a deal, a little extra cash for us to make you miserable, send you running into his arms for shelter from big, bad Peter and his mean friends.”

What?

“What?” Christina echoed my thoughts, “Al, is that true??” She snapped sharply, looking at him now with wide eyes. Will was staring at Al as though he’d never seen him before - and I felt the same. It felt like the ground was going to give out beneath me.

“O-of course not!”

I didn’t mean to, but a scoff escaped my lips and Peter laughed, rubbing the side of his nose while looking proud, “Guess that’s the part he didn’t really think through, you’re not exactly the run and hide type, now, are you?” Laughter bubbled up from my chest and out of my throat, high and marginally hysterical, because through it all how was it that  _ Peter _ knew my strength, acknowledged it, more than my own friends did? It felt like I might choke to death on my own giggles.

When Al’s shoulders relaxed marginally, and he looked my way with relief in his eyes, it occurred to me that, maybe, he thought Peter’s accusation was  _ so _ hard to believe that I couldn't help but be amused. The thought knocked all laughter right out of me, like someone closed a lid on my throat.

The problem with that logic was simply that Peter had nothing to gain from lying about this, and everything to lose. It burned like bile, knowing that, knowing it as well as my own name; he wouldn’t lie unless he gained something out of it. Here all he had to gain was disbelief, we were all friends, and  _ he _ was the enemy, why would they believe him? Why would -  _ should _ \- I? Christina scowled, and I heard Will softly speak my name in a question, but when a hand landed on my shoulder I jerked forward so that it fell away. Something in my stomach twisted, and churned, hot like acid. I found myself storming up to Al, and shoving him, eyes narrowed. He didn’t budge, and that only made me more angry.

“Are you kidding me?! You made my life  _ hell _ just so you could..what? Play my knight in shining armor?” Al looked trapped, his eyes wide and his face pale, sputtering but not forming words. “Let me tell you something, Albert. I don’t need you, or  _ anyone else _ to protect me! I’m a grown woman, fully capable of fighting for herself. Do you think I picked D--” I choked on my words and stopped, suddenly feeling chilled to the bone. I’d almost said Dauntless. The next time I spoke, my tone was ice, “I  _ chose _ this career because I want to be strong - I want to  _ protect _ other people. Get it into your head that I’m not a damsel - and just to make it all very, very clear. I’m not attracted to you, nor will I  _ ever _ be, you’re a coward and--”

I yelped as Al lunged at me, pushing me roughly against the wall, hard enough to send a painful shock up my spine. That was probably going to bruise. A strangled gasp escaped my lips as I tried desperately to get air back into my lungs, but it felt like I was breathing in fire. His big hands were tightly gripping each of my biceps, squeezing as he gave me a hard shake that rattled my teeth. All I could do was stare up at him, mouth opening and closing as I sucked up air hungrily, somewhere between agony and shock. This was Al, gentle,  _ timid _ Al. Neither of those words described the man before me. There was a line of spittle in the corner of his mouth, but I didn’t have long to focus on it, because he was snapping at me.

“Is this what you want? Huh? This what it takes to get you going, Tris?!” He all but growled, burying his face in my neck, and panic flooded me so intense that I could barely even feel the heat of his breath on my skin. I knew he was kissing my neck, but I couldn’t quite focus on him, or anything. My hands frantically scrabbled at his chest, and tried to reach his face, to push him away. Suddenly, I was back in the training room, learning how to defend myself from Eric, but I’d never been pinned while standing up, and Al was twice as heavy as Eric could ever have dreamed of being. I was back in the Chasm, Peter’s hand on my chest. I felt like I was going to be sick.

My brain was on a frantic loop, blaring a desperate need to escape. I could hear voices layering on top of one another, but my head was so foggy I couldn’t actually make sense of what was being said, or who by. Shame burned through my skin as his words bounced around my skull - was that what he thought of me? Was that what  _ Peter _ thought of me?

As it turned out, I didn’t need to worry much, because a few moments later Al was wrenched bodily backwards, though that just brought me along with him as an unwilling extra, his fingers still digging bruises into my arms. Despite the hurricane of emotions boiling around in my head, my eyes were bone dry, for which I was grateful. Grateful to Eric, as awful as it felt to admit, because he’d taught me to harden my heart when I was overwhelmed, to block it all out and focus, instead of shutting down.

Al’s face was still buried between my neck and shoulder, but he was sobbing now, not attacking me. He was whispering something over and over, but I could barely make it out over the sound of his hiccups and wailing. My skin was wet with his tears. It disgusted me, twisting my stomach into tight knots of discomfort, so I shoved hard against his chest. He didn’t budge, but his grip on my arms slackened to the point that I could rip myself away from him. My arms throbbed but I didn’t touch them, I wouldn’t show weakness to him or anyone else. His face was splotchy and wet, mouth quivering with each puff of air; all I could think was how repulsively spineless he was.

“Please, I’m sorry, Tris I’m  _ sorry _ , please, please,” He choked out, stepping nearer to me, nose wet with snot and cheeks soaked by tears. My face felt hot, everyone was silently watching us, and I took them in, too. Peter was where he’d been before, arms crossed and mouth set into a tight scowl. Something about knowing he hadn’t tried to defend me from Al felt..right. Warm, even. Like he knew I would have eventually gotten out of the situation. Christina was baring her teeth, held back by Will who was looking between Al and I with that wrinkle creased deep between his brows, like he wasn’t sure what to do to remedy this situation without hurting someone.

“You’re disgusting, Al,” My eyes met Chris’, rage still burning into my veins, and I’m sure I should have thanked her, because surely it had been her and Will who pulled him off of me, - I had a vague memory of her voice, loud and angry - but all I could think was that this was her fault. If she’d have just listened to me, trusted that I could make my own decisions, and protect myself, none of this would be happening. Maybe that called for thanks, would Peter have told me this elsewise? Would I still be trying to rekindle my friendship with Al, never knowing his newest betrayal? I set my jaw and frowned, looking back to Al, because I just couldn’t trust myself to say anything to Christina that I wouldn’t regret later.

“I don’t want you to ever touch me again. Or talk to me, for that matter. Just..stay away from me.”

“Tris..” His voice was weak, wet, pleading with me. Begging.

“If you ever come near me again, I’ll kill you.” I’d said something like this before, hadn’t I? The memory is sort of vague and foggy, but I remembered it in a haze. Al apologizing for attacking me at the Chasm, me calling him weak, telling him I’d kill him. It was like history repeating itself. What happened after that? It’s like..everything gets so clouded, like my memories used to be. Like a window coated in frost - nothing but blank whiteness. Al started forward, as though he was going to touch me again, and I reared back, growling deep in my chest.

“Get away from me!” My voice hurt on the way out, it was raw and guttural, and I almost didn’t recognize it as mine.

His round eyes widened as he stopped mid step, seeming suspended as though it had only just occurred to him that I really wouldn’t be able to forgive him. Of course he was surprised, he was still seeing me as a weak, gentle hearted girl who didn’t have it in her to hurt anyone. I wasn’t that girl - I don’t know that I ever really had been, not before The Wipe and certainly not now. No. Right then all I felt was a hollow ache of loss for the death of that girl, and louder than that a hatred for the man in front of me. Not like my hatred for Peter, that was almost a being of its own design, hot and virile and electric. This was different, colder, more resigned.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted movement - it only hit me then that other people used this spot to glean some privacy, and we’d all been here having a big shouting match, it was just surprising that no one had come out sooner to complain, or just to leave. I expected strangers, but instead I recognized Four first, though he didn’t look like any memory I had of him. His face was flushed, hair a mess, and his mouth was red and swollen from kisses, not punches. Nita, now  _ she _ was hard to recognize. Her hair was down, and her face was painted up prettily. She was showing more skin than I’d ever seen and she looked  _ beautiful _ .

Something in me clenched and reared up at the sight of them, arm in arm, Four looking alarmed, Nita looking irritated. My stomach ached and twisted but I had no answer for it, so I searched for anything else to feel. For a long moment everyone was suspended, staring from face to face, piecing together how our instructor was here, and I’m sure  _ he _ was trying to decide if someone needed to be arrested, or punished, or if this was something he didn’t want to be a part of at all. If the discomfort in his expression, and the pointed way he looked at everyone  _ except _ for me had any say in it, I was willing to bet it was the last option.

“Is there a problem here?” He finally asked, his voice low and gritty, it wasn’t a tone I’d heard before, or at least not that I could  _ remember _ hearing, but it reminded me of Peter’s voice from before, when he’d pinned me to that wall, and the notion that Nita was likely responsible for that gravel in Four’s voice..it made me feel violent. Why? I bit my cheek, and snuck a look up at the instructor, chewing on the inside of my cheek. Something fluttered up to the surface, vague but familiar. Sliding my hand into his in a hallway lit with dim blue lamps, a strange giddiness I’d never felt in my stomach, but it was foggy at best, and gone as quick as it came.

“No, sir, we were just leaving.” I managed to say, the coldness in my tone surprising me. I could see the way Four was looking from Peter, to Al, to me, and I wondered for a moment if he remembered what they’d done to me in Dauntless. If the muscle that jumped in his jaw as he clenched it was any sign, that was probably a yes. Next to Four, Nita tensed, shooting me a hard look that I couldn’t decipher, but I didn’t care right then. I knew she was trying to help fix what the Bureau had done, that she and I were allies, but in that moment I wanted to break her stupid, perfect nose. A glance in Peter’s direction showed that he was staring at Four with unmasked vehemence. Odd.

I needed to get away, to be anywhere but here with everyone I knew, and had known, who had forgotten and relearned me. There were just too many things to feel at once, and it was going to rip me to shreds if I stayed. I turned and walked away from everyone. They all seemed to slowly thaw out from their shock, then, and I heard Christina choke my name out in surprise, but Al and Peter were..oddly silent. I couldn’t find it in me to care right then. Purposefully and tensely I stormed back across the Chasm, not stopping even as I heard Chris calling my name from behind. If I had looked back I was sure I would have seen her wriggling through the crowds trying to catch up to me, but I wanted to be alone right then.

Maybe forever.

* * *

 

Watching Tris was hard on a normal day in the academy, seeing her struggle here just as she’d done in Dauntless with Peter and his cronies, and with her own friends who, still, clearly couldn’t seem to accept her strength was difficult. Watching her here, in what used to be Dauntless headquarters, dressed up with her eyes lined in makeup, and her skin marred by someone’s mouth was agony. Even after The Wipe, she was solid steel, her entire body was practically vibrating with the unchecked power she had, and I wanted to see more of it. 

Nita had been against investigating when we’d heard the shouting around the corner, at first I struggled, but her mouth is a force to be reckoned with. It wasn’t until I realized it was  _ Tris _ shouting, her tone ranging on deadly, that I couldn’t just ignore whatever was happening. It was my job to protect people, I reasoned with myself, it wasn’t because it was  _ her _ specifically. Despite the smoldering glare I was fixed with, I left, and of course Nita followed. She’d warned me not to get close to Tris, that it would be suspicious, but ever since she’d walked into the training room I’d been itching to talk to her.

She  _ remembered _ things, like I did. Nita knew about our lives, sure, but she hadn’t  _ lived _ it. If what I’d been told was true, Tris remembered a lot more than I had, without being given the memory serum. I’d had to take it to remember more than glimpses, but for some reason we hadn’t given Tris any yet. Nita always dodged me when I asked, so I’d stopped trying.

Watching this version of Tris was alarming, to say the least. She didn’t seem to have any of the warmth left from our days in Dauntless. It was like every last drop of Abnegation had been scrubbed away from her. All that had been left behind was that rage I’d seen the day she’d nearly beaten Molly to death, which felt like eons ago now. It honestly scared me a bit, like I was looking at Eric during initiation. Cold, calculated, and ruthless. The way she spoke to me was like she was talking to a stranger, so maybe she didn’t remember me yet. Not like I remembered her - but how could she? She’d never felt anything for me, never reciprocated, and I’d never  _ told _ her. As far as she knew, I was just a pushy instructor.

It didn’t take a genius to see the way she and Peter behaved around one another, and it boiled me alive to know that  _ he _ was the one that caught her attention, but that was just a testament to who this version of Tris was. Did she know he’d tried to kill her? That he’d.. _ touched _ her, back then? I gnashed my teeth at the memory, glowering at both Al and Peter with equal levels of hate and distaste. There was a scar above Peter’s eyebrow - I’d given it to him that night, after beating both he and Drew far past where I should have. The little nick of a scar didn’t hold a candle to the one on his forearm, a crescent that would match up with Tris’ mouth if she were to compare it.

Why did it have to be  _ Peter _ ?

Juanita’s hand on my arm tightened, and I tensed a bit, remembering myself. I’d been staring after Tris as she stormed off, shoulders set like she carried the weight of the world on her back. Right. I turned back to the remaining three - Will, Peter, and Al. I looked right at Peter, eyes narrowed to slits, and he looked just as unhappy to see me. I wondered for a moment if he was Divergent, too. He’d never shown major signs, but how could he hold that much hate for me in the sparse amount of time he’d been around me? No that I minded, I just didn’t trust him.

“What happened here?” My voice betrayed none of my rage, coming out controlled and harsh as I’d intended, and at least if I had no control of anything else in the world, I had my image as their instructor. Unbreakable and not to be challenged. Peter’s entire body relaxed against the stone behind him as a smirk crawled onto his face - I thought back to watching Eric break his nose barely even a week ago. It helped quell my anger.

“Just a squabble, sir,” Will answered obediently, his tone gentle and reassuring, but Peter scoffed as though he had something to say.

“What are you, eighty? A squabble. Tch. I was enjoying some private time with Tris when these assholes just showed up and started giving us trouble,  _ that’s _ what happened!” He threw his hands up and glared, “Look at my face, that absolute freak of nature over there tried to kill me in a fit of psycho jealous rage.” I rolled my eyes, he had on his soft, victim face. It still made my stomach twist uncomfortably at how  _ nice _ he was capable of appearing when he wanted to be. I knew better than to trust that, but that didn’t change the fact that Peter  _ did _ have wounds, and Al didn’t. Well, if you didn’t count his bright red fists. I chose to ignore the nasty feeling clawing its way up my throat at the words “private time” and “Tris” being in the same sentence together, coming from  _ Peter _ .

Al was suspiciously quiet, staring at nothing with his mouth slightly open. His nose was running and his eyes were wet, but he made no sign that he was even aware anyone was talking, let alone about or  _ to _ him. Will was quiet, too, looking sour at the prospect of agreeing with Peter, but he hadn’t argued, so clearly he hadn’t said anything that was worth disagreeing with.

“We’re going to have to report this,” I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed heavily. This was more paperwork than I was willing to deal with at the moment. I closed my eyes and counted to five before opening them again, fixing my glare on each of the men, one at a time. Will looked ashamed, Peter looked smug, and Al was still unresponsive. I gently shrugged Nita’s hand off of me and walked up to the largest of the three, scowling.

“You’ll need to come with me, Al.”

He didn’t even struggle, just walked a few inches ahead of me, and it wasn’t until we reached the Chasm that he stopped, his entire body so still he seemed like a statue. When he looked at me, I froze; his eyes were empty and dead, shining with unshed tears, and with speed that surprised me for someone his size, he rushed for the railing. In the next breath he had gripped the metal bar and flung himself over the side.

“Shit!” I dove after him, grabbing his wrist as the rest of his body dangled like dead weight. His torso struck the side of the bridge, and I heard a repulsive cracking that could have only been his ribs. He stared up at me, eyes narrowed, and his mouth was set into a snarl. Part of me, the nasty part I spent a lot of time pushing down, wanted to drop him, but I couldn’t bring myself to. A spray of cold water struck us, making his skin slick. I threw my entire upper body over the rail, gripping him with both hands and gritting my teeth.

Behind me I heard Will shouting and felt his body against my shoulder, his hands scrabbling for Al’s hand, all the while more water was soaking my hands, and the large body beneath me was slipping. Will’s arms were too short to be of any use, so he settled for grabbing me by the waist when I started to slide forward. I grunted in pain, water splashing up and speckling my face this time. I was confident in my strength, but Al was dead weight, and it was like a bag of rocks had been tied to my hands.

“Al, come on, help us out here,” I grunted, feeling like my rib cage was going to break pressed into the metal railing like it was, but he just shook his head and brought up one big, meaty hand to push at mine. He began to wriggle and squirm, which only made everything that much more difficult. I gritted my teeth and tried to pull him up, feeling a hot, painful pop in my shoulder at the weight of him, and the angle. Nita was on my other side now, trying to talk to him, her tone gentle, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care. My ribs screamed in agony as he tugged downwards, taking my breath with him. I gasped, but kept pulling, ignoring the sharp twinges of pain that came from Al’s bitten nails digging into my skin, among other things.

“Let me go!” He shouted up at me, pushing again, and this time the moisture between us, mixed with his strength, was enough to dislodge me and he fell, his expression wide-eyed with surprise. I heard Will scream his name from behind me, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away as he fell, hitting the rocks at the bottom. It was like someone had thrown a sack of potatoes over the side, the way he gave no resistance. I couldn’t hear his bones break over the sound of music bouncing from wall to wall, but in my head I could imagine what they would have sounded like. It felt a bit like someone had punched me in the stomach. Will had let me go in favor of kneeling by the railing, gripping it with white knuckles. His eyes were screwed shut, mouth pressed into a thin line.

Part of me felt sick with the guilt of not being able to save him, part of me was glad to see him gone, and the final, coldest part of me dreaded the extra amount of paperwork this was going to mean. Maybe Tris wasn’t the only one who had grown colder after The Wipe, after all. I noticed Peter close by, he’d been watching it all with morbid curiosity, brows upraised and mouth pursed into a thoughtful expression, and it twisted somewhere in my gut just how well he would have fit in with Eric and the other Dauntless, if he’d made it through initiation.

He brushed past Will and I without so much as a parting word. I couldn’t bring myself to go after him, writing them up for a fight just wasn’t important when I had a death on my hands.

* * *

 

Telling Tris what Al had done had been something I’d been itching to do for a while now. I’d imagined it over and over again, sometimes it was a gentle confession to earn her trust, others it was a violent strike to her pride, a quick move to tear the rug from under her, make her trust even less than she already did. I never imagined it would come up in front of him, though. Not like it had, and I didn’t expect to see her raw rage like that, either. When Al had gone after her, I’d almost launched myself at them, but I didn’t. I  _ had _ to watch her - I needed to know how she’d respond; was he right? Did she cow to any man who pushed her around, and made her feel small, or was it really just me?

There was a welling of pride in my chest as I watched her snarl and bow up like a feral cat. She didn’t need my protection, if she did, I don’t think I’d have been attracted to her, honestly. Her hatred for him was a surprise, too. I’d expected some anger, yeah, some threats, but I hadn’t really pictured her shutting him out entirely. I had to smile - it was beautiful to see under all that goodness there really was a black rage like mine. She wanted to hurt people just as much as I did. What I  _ really _ didn’t expect, though, was how much it bothered me that she looked at the quiet instructor from the academy like he’d hung the moon, then at his companion like she’d personally offended her, solely by existing.

_ Oh. _

I wasn’t jealous. Territorial, maybe, but not jealous. I still wanted to break the guy’s bones for making her look at him in ways _ I’d _ only managed with alcohol, and seduction, up until now, regardless of the  _ why _ . All he’d done was step around the corner and she’d  _ melted _ for a moment. My teeth ached with how hard I ground them together to keep my mouth shut, and that feeling followed me all the way up until I watched Al lurch unceremoniously off of the bridge. That improved my mood some, and gave me a better reason than finishing what we’d started to find Tris. Though, to be honest, finishing what we started was a  _ great _ idea on its own, if you asked me. If she brought even a fraction of the anger I’d just witnessed into the bed, oh fuck. It had me half hard just at the prospect.

By the time I got back to the academy, I was calmer than I had been in the Pit. As badly as I wanted to claim every inch of her, to keep what had happened earlier going, I stood to gain more from her by telling her about Al’s death. She didn’t strike me as someone who needed consoling, but on the off chance that she  _ did _ , I could only imagine what it would do for me to be the one she cried on. I could get her to trust me- and why did I care so much about that? The feeling tingled through me like lightning, but not in the usual, sexual way. No, this was something else entirely, and I hated the sensation. It was dangerous.

I found her in the dorms, her pale back exposed, only broken by the thin black line of a bra. In that moment I took in the damage she’d been hiding. Her ribs were wrapped, and her milky skin was more purple and yellow than white, in a flash it was gone as she pulled her uniform top on. I hesitated, taking a few steps back to exit the room entirely. It felt like someone had doused me in ice water, freezing through my veins and settling in my heart. I’d wait. If she wasn’t changing into something to sleep in, she planned on training, which didn’t really come as a surprise, but it  _ did _ give me the opportunity to follow her. Maybe I could figure out who it was that kept putting those bruises on her body. Rage was pulsing through my veins, loud and violent. I’d kill whoever dared mark her up like that - she was my canvas, not theirs.

Tris stormed down the hall without noticing me, which was a nice surprise, so I followed. I stayed back far enough away that, if she did decide to look over her shoulder, I could duck into a doorway, or another hall, but the caution turned out to be unnecessary. Tris moved like a whirlwind of rage, violently determined, not stopping until she barreled right into the training room door. It slammed behind her, bouncing a few times with the force. I’d gotten this far before, and usually by the time I made it to the door, it was already locked, so I ran forward, shoving it open to find the room dark, and empty, save for Tris.

Huh.

It made sense that she wouldn’t be training with the mystery officer - it was an off day for recruits, so they probably had jobs to do, or maybe they were off, too. I suddenly felt immensely stupid for not thinking so earlier, but it was too late to compose myself; Tris was staring at me, looking surprised. Maybe she’d expected me to be her training partner, and for some reason that set a fire in my gut, filling me with the unhealthy sort of rage that had led to me bashing her head into this very floor. I schooled my face into something softer, going for compassionate, but not overly so; she wasn’t an idiot, she knew better than to fall for the gentility I could pull over other people’s eyes. The anger was still there, boiling away, but I tamped it down, repurposed it into hurting her in a different way.

I needed to gain her trust here, if I wanted to have any chance of worming my way into her bed,  _ then _ I could bruise her body, leave  _ my _ marks.

“Peter,” She didn’t accuse me of anything, just said my name like a question, like she wasn’t sure of anything, which was just as surprising as it was sort of..sad. It was a drastic change from the hateful way she usually addressed me - though, I admittedly missed the fire in her tone a little bit.

“Tris,” I mumbled, still feeling a little squeamish at using something as intimate as a nickname with her. I took a few steps forward, letting my shoulders slump slightly. Her eyes widened, as though it only just hit her that I had some kind of bad news, that I wasn’t here to attack, or brag. She frowned, then, walking forward cautiously, wary of any trick I might have up my sleeve. It annoyed me as much as it made me feel accomplished. I wanted her to come to me without hesitation, but I also wanted her to fight me until we were both bloody; it was hard to decide which I craved more. I bit down on my cheek and swallowed, trying to figure out the best way to start this. One look at her reminded me; the bruises, her strength, her  _ power _ . She didn’t need to be coddled.

“Al is dead,” The only sound from her was a sharp intake of breath, her eyes roamed over my face, staring intently, like she was looking for some sign I was lying. It took everything in me not to smile, this was a serious moment, smiling would make me look sadistic. While we both knew that I was, it wouldn’t do me any favors to remind her of it right now. She swallowed hard, wiping her palms on the front of her shorts. That was pain on her face, odd. Even after what he’d done, she still cared enough to hurt for his loss?

“He..what? How?”

“He..he threw himself over the rail, back at the Pit,” It was as easy as breathing to let my voice soften, to hesitate, sound like the thought bothered me, “I saw it happen..one minute he was walking with that trainer, the next he was over the side. Will and the guy,” I paused, raising a hand to put it on her shoulder - she looked like she was having a hard time hearing this, her chest was rising and falling rapidly. “They uh, they tried to save him, but he just..didn’t  _ want _ to be saved.” Her dark eyes were glossy, but the tears didn’t spill. I had a feeling some part of her, the good part I wanted to crush out of existence, was feeling guilty, blaming herself for his death.

“..Oh,”

She closed her eyes and took a deep, shaking breath; I watched her throat bob gently with each swallow. After a few silent seconds I found myself closing the distance, pulling her small frame to my chest, and holding her there. To my surprise, she only stood ramrod for a moment before her arms coiled around my back, her fingers burying themselves into my shirt. I didn’t want to think too much about how warm that made me feel. I leaned my head against hers, closing my eyes and breathing her scent in - soap, alcohol and citrus - for a long moment. My brain was yelling danger at me, this was too tender, too close, too  _ vulnerable _ , but I couldn’t pull away.

We stood like that for a long time, I couldn’t tell you how long honestly, but at some point my fingers found their way into her hair, which was still down, and I’d been carding them through it. Her head wound up cradled under my jaw, and her tense shoulders had begun to relax. Eventually, as all good things do, it had to end, though. Neither of us were the tender, hugging type, after all. Slowly she pulled back, hands clenched in the material of my shirt by my ribs on each side, and looked up at me with bloodshot, but bone dry eyes, which I silently praised her for.

“I can’t believe he’s..gone,”

“I’m..sorry,” It was hard to say, because I wasn’t, but I tried to imagine if I’d lost Molly or Drew, it would be unfortunate, really, “I know you two were..close, until tonight..” That made her pull back. Damn. That was too much, she knew how little I cared about..well, pretty much anything that didn’t directly benefit me. That fire was slowly building behind her eyes, not that I minded, the dull, sad expression from before wasn’t one I preferred to see in her. Tris’ mouth twisted into a scowl. I preferred her to be burning - if she snuffed out, I wanted it to be because of me, not Al.

“What do you want from me, Peter?” Her voice was a ghost, quiet, unsure. It twisted in my stomach, twirling my insides like noodles. That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it? The one I’d been asking myself almost constantly since she’d come and messed up my entire world. What did I want from all of this, what did I gain? I wanted her broken, ruined, all the goodness gone - I wanted her naked and writhing under me - and I wanted her to stand with me, better than everyone else, which shocked me enough to let my arms drop back to my sides. I’d only ever had room for Molly and Drew in my future, the one that had been set in stone forever. Longer than forever, but..could I have _her_ in it, too? Did I want that?

“I don’t know.” The words surprised me, the truth in them was mortifyingly bare, open for her to see. I didn’t know. I had no fucking clue why I wanted to touch her so much, why I wanted more than to just shatter her, or fuck her, and have it done with. It was maybe the most terrifying realization I’ve ever had. I wanted..permanence from her.

“..I don’t know, either,” She muttered, crossing her arms over her chest, like she needed to defend herself from me by looking bigger. Tris looked..vulnerable. I swallowed hard, and ignored the urge to close that gap between us again. This was big - I couldn’t just go around letting my feelings control me like this. It would ruin me.  _ She _ was going to ruin me.

“..I think,” Her eyes snapped up to look at me, begging for an answer I didn’t know if I even  _ had _ , “I don’t want us to be on opposite sides.” Now that I was talking, the words were coming out too quickly, I wanted to shove them back in but couldn’t, “I don’t know if I want you like,  _ you _ you,” I gestured to her as a whole, wanting to pace, but settling for burying a hand in the hair at the base of my neck, instead, “Or if I just  _ want _ you,” Her eyes narrowed for a moment, but then she nodded, which surprised me. I expected anger, indignation, but she seemed to  _ get _ it, which was sort of amazing and awful at the same time. It meant she was on the same level of fucked up as I was. I shouldn’t have enjoyed that as much as I did.

“I hate you. So much. You’re..insufferable, and an absolute ass, with some  _ serious  _ issues but,” She frowned, tightening her arms and rolling her shoulders in a shrug, suddenly unable to meet my eyes. Interesting. “I don’t know. I guess..I kind of like how it feels, around you. Like, you know I’m not going to just..break, if you push me the wrong way.” I couldn’t help the grin that pulled at my lips, and as much as I wanted to snark, I kept my mouth shut. “Everyone else thinks I’m made of glass - and..maybe you’re cruel for it, but you keep pushing when they say I’ll break. It’s..it makes me  _ feel _ strong.” The way my heart jumped was a giant red flashing light telling me to get the fuck out, but I couldn’t move my feet.

“I can’t keep holding what happened against you - you’ve..apologized, which is a shocker in and of itself and, I..I still can’t stand you. I still hate that you did that to me - that you did it in front of  _ them _ and made me look weak,” Her tone was acid, and I focused on that, instead of the way my heart was twisting at her words, “But..I need to try and forgive you, I guess.” Of all the things she could have said, I hadn’t really expected that. Forgiveness? My chest ached, I needed to back out of this, things were getting beyond my control here.

“I still owe you for the concussion,” She laughed, pressing a hand to her face as her shoulders shook, but it didn’t last very long. Her hand fell, and she looked up at me, expression serious. Her gaze flickered from my eyes to my mouth and back up again, or did I just imagine that?

“You’re so fucked up, Peter”

“So are you,”

Tris hesitated a moment, long enough for me to think maybe she was going to haul off and punch me, but then she gripped the front of my shirt and dragged me down to her level. Her chin jutted upward, nose bumping into mine, but ultimately she fitted her mouth over mine and my stomach did a backflip. Tris tasted like liquor, and something fruity. Her lips were warm and chapped, uncertain, but they shot electricity down my spine and through each vein in my body. I gripped her waist and crushed her chest into mine, returning the kiss. I was done for. Well and truly fucked, because my heart was fucking  _ soaring _ .

I moved to lick into her mouth, swiping my tongue against her lower lip, and she shuddered, pulling back then, to stare up at me with a flushed face, and glazed eyes. Fucking beautiful. Part of me expected another interruption, the entire world seemed tied to the understanding that I needed to be cock blocked at all possible moments, but the room stayed blissfully quiet. I dragged my tongue over my lips, and ignored how tingly everything felt. The girl was destroying me, and I couldn’t even begin to try defending myself from it.

“There,” She finally said, breathless, “that shut you up.” I quirked a brow and leaned in again, brushing my lips over the nape of her neck, but she pulled back and away from me, hands clenched into fists at her sides. I groaned quietly, wanting nothing more than to just pin her to the closest available surface and claim her, until she was raw and weak, but instead I stood where she’d left me. Feeling..jilted, of all things. This girl was a goddamned roller coaster, and I didn’t know if I wanted another ride or if I wanted to run in the opposite direction as fast as possible.

“Take me on a real date - that’ll make us even.”

_ Fuck. _ Another ride, yeah. That’s what I wanted.

“I think I can handle that,” I muttered quietly, surprised at her choice; I had fully expected her to punch me, and if the confused look on her face was anything to judge by, she was, too. There was an annoying tingle running through my limbs that had little to do with the aching need to take her right in the middle of the training room. After a moment, she took a few steps back, crouching into a fighting stance, which made me wonder if she’d come to her senses, and planned to kick my ass after all.

Or try to, anyway.

“Now spar with me, I need a distraction,” I grinned at her confident smirk, shrugging out of my jacket, and letting it fall to the floor in a puddle before I matched her stance. I wasn’t going to hurt her tonight, not like I’d done before, but if she wound up with a few fresh bruises from me, I wasn’t going to apologize for it by any means.

“You could just let me finish what we started,  _ that _ would be a great distraction, in my opinion, good workout, too” I hummed out, and was met with a sharp jab that I nearly didn’t dodge for my efforts. She laughed, though, so at least I wasn’t in too much trouble. I didn’t miss the way her eyes shifted away, though, or how she blushed; even in the low light it was easy to see her dark cheeks, but I wasn’t given much time to enjoy the small victory, because she was coming at me again. This felt odd, the playful strikes each of us passed off. Unnatural, even, but I was enjoying it too much to look closely, so instead I lunged forward to send a light punch toward her stomach. To my surprise, she twirled around my fist and wound up behind me, hitting me in the side in something that barely passed as a swat. If fighting could be flirting, it would feel a bit like this.

“Too slow~”

I turned to face her, surprised to find a laugh on my lips, and she dove for me. This continued for several minutes, each of us trying to land hits, but nothing harder than a light stinging punch, passing off taunts. At one point she got into my guard, leaning in close like she was going to kiss me again, and I stupidly fell for it. Literally. The next moment she hooked her foot around my ankle and I hit the mat, letting out a quiet  _ oof _ for my troubles. It should have bothered me how light and happy I felt despite her trick. Sparring with Molly and Drew in our spare time always ended in busted lips and snarled insults, but this was nice. Before I could get up, Tris pinned me, sitting herself firmly on my stomach.

“Ha! That’s what you get for letting your guard dow--woah!”

I spun us, rolling her beneath me, though I rested myself between her legs rather than straddling her, forearms pressed to the mat on either side of her head. Tris gaped up at me, wide-eyed and flushed, and all I could do was grin. I wanted to kiss her - and now I  _ could _ . Her arms stayed splayed above her head as she peered up at me curiously. I leaned in, brushing my nose against hers, and murmured quietly, close enough to feel her breath on my lips,

“Who’s guard is down, now?” She groaned and closed her eyes, a deep redness painting her face, so I dipped my chin down and crushed her mouth with mine, claiming it desperately. The second time was just as electric as the first. The feel of her leaning into me, kissing back feverishly, went straight to my dick, and I groaned into the kiss. Without really meaning to, I ground my hips into her and enjoyed the way her lips parted to mewl; I took advantage of her  moment of weakness to dip my tongue past her teeth. Her hands shifted from the mat to grip my back, fingers digging in, so I rocked my hips forward again.

She shuddered, bowing her back to grind into me, and that was something I’d only  _ dreamed _ of feeling. I pulled back from her mouth with a soft  _ pop _ , panting for breath, and pressed my forehead to hers. Tris’ eyes were closed as she sucked in breath after breath, her fingers still clutched tight. Her pink tongue darted out to lick at her lips before she finally opened her eyes and looked up at me. Vulnerable wasn’t a word I’d use to describe her very often, but it fit in that moment.

“Did you..” She started, sounding soft and uncertain, and  _ fuck _ that was going to be my undoing. “Did you really..want me, back then?” Shit. I’d been hoping she’d forgotten that. Why did I have to be so mouthy when it came to sex? For a long moment I weighed my options, but I was here, between her legs, with the taste of her mouth on mine. I was already in too deep, there wasn’t any going back that didn’t involve never being here again, and I wasn’t willing to give that up just yet. We’d only just started - I couldn’t live with myself if I screwed up and went a lifetime not knowing what it was like to be her first, what she looked like when she came, wrapped around my cock.

“Shit. Yeah, I did, badly. I wanted to pin you to the counter in the bathroom, to my bed, anywhere really, and when you hit me,” My voice was wrecked, and I ground myself against her again, fully hard now as I thought back to that night, of how easy it could have been, “ _ Fuck, _ I meant it when I said you’re sexy when you hate me, Tris. I wanted to do  _ bad _ things to you,” Another roll of my hips, and she moaned, a sound that was like heaven to my ears. Her hands tightened against my back, I could feel them digging almost painfully.

“I wanted to kiss you,” She mumbled breathlessly, “that night, on the date, I wanted to kiss you in your car. I..” Tris blushed prettily, “I should have gone home with you,” That did terrible things to me, and I felt just as much of a pull in my chest as I did between my legs. How dare she do this to me? “And..in the med bay, I wanted you to..” The blush darkened, and she looked unsure, nervous suddenly, “I wanted you to touch me, to..stay,” Her voice was quiet, barely a whisper, but it made my dick twitch, and I pressed myself harder into her, desperate for more than just dry, tactless rutting.

“ _ Fuck, _ ” I hissed, closing my eyes and burying my face in her neck.

“Peter,” She whimpered, and then again, but less breathless, more uncertain, and when I dragged my lips up her pale throat and kissed there, her hands disappeared from my back, worming their way between us, and she pushed, her voice stern verging on irritated, “ _ Peter _ stop.” No two words had ever felt more like a punch to the gut than those. I groaned in frustration and pulled back to look at her, my need for release verging on painful at this point. Her face was pinched into a strange expression.

“What now?” I pressed my hands to the mat on either side of her shoulders, tried not to scowl, and puffed out a quiet breath of irritation. Tris’ eyes narrowed into slits, and she pushed harder on my chest, squirming now; when I didn’t budge she shoved her fingers into the joints of my elbows, sending me forward; during my fall Tris managed to roll to the side and free herself, leaving me lying face down with a grunt of irritation. I twisted around to face her, watching how quickly she got to her feet, face flushed and eyes narrowed.

“I said stop, Peter.”

“What the fuck is your deal?” I snapped, and I shouldn’t have, I was burning bridges quicker than I could build them, but that had always been my specialty. I jumped to my feet and watched her flinch, but she didn’t move away, she set her jaw and threw her arms up defensively and..oh.  _ Oh. _ Did she think I was going to attack her?

“What the fuck is  _ my  _ deal? You’re the one who can’t have a single interaction with me that doesn’t end in you trying to have sex with, torture, or  _ kill _ me, Peter!” She snapped, looking equal parts afraid and furious. And..okay, that stung a little bit. She was right, though. That didn’t make the aching hard on in my pants any less prominent or painful, though, and that just pushed me to be even angier. I just wanted to get off, already, couldn’t she understand that? No, of course not, she was little miss pure, after all.

“You’re such a goddamn tease, Prior. Truth is you’re a coward, aren’t you? You’re in your twenties and you’ve never even dated --” I paused, frowned, and then felt a smirk pulling at the corners of my lips as I put two and two together. She scowled at me, but I continued anyway, “Was that your first kiss, before?” She didn’t have to tell me, her face told enough in the way it dropped, in the way she drew her lower lip between her teeth, how her jaw clenched tight, “Oh my god it was. You’re--”

“Enough, Peter! God. Why did I think this would work? I’m such an idiot - I-I actually thought you--” She stopped, flinched, and then set a cold, hard stare in my direction, any vulnerability from before gone now. “Forget the date, that was a stupid thing to say. I’m choosing to break your nose, that’ll make us even, and you won’t need to talk to me, come near me, or touch me, ever. Again.” It took everything in me not to flinch - my chest hurt, and I didn’t want to think about that, about why her words physically hurt. Instead I scowled right back at her. Dismantling the roller coaster seemed like a better idea, now, taking it down one bolt at a time. Screw running.

“You know, I thought you’d grown up a little bit, matured some, but you’re still a petulant little girl under all that bravado.” I needed to shut up. I was making everything so, so much worse - I could still taste her lips on mine, and every word that came out of my mouth was driving a wedge between me and my chances of tasting them ever again. “I just..let me take you on the date, alright? It’ll be pricey, and I’ll do whatever you want,” God I sounded pathetic, but apparently she did that to me. Tris’ eyes narrowed as she looked me up and down, arms still held up in defense. My shoulders slumped, and I didn’t really mean to say it, but the words came out anyway,

“Stop looking at me like I’m going to lunge and hurt you. I’m not..that’s not..what this is.” She laughed, cold and nasty, a noise I appreciated as much as I hated. Her cruel side was beautiful, but it was pointed at me, and for once, I didn’t want it. I wanted..god, I wanted her to look at me like she looked at that trainer.

“Oh, and what  _ is _ this, Peter? You come in here to tell me my friend is  _ dead _ \--”

“Friend? He had me torture you just so he could play  _ hero _ , Tris!”

“Oh shut up, don’t go acting like you didn’t enjoy yourself. You of all people do  _ not _ get to argue morals. You came in here and gave me that news, and you expect me to want to have  _ sex with you _ ?! On a dirty practice mat, no less! You’re disgusting and shameless, Peter.”

“You seemed pretty into the idea a few minutes ago, so does that make  _ you _ shameless, too?”

“Al is  _ dead _ , and I’m to blame, for the love of christ! I know you don’t have a heart, but you could at least  _ pretend _ to. You’re such a sociopath.”

“At least I’m  _ honest _ about what I want. I don’t let other people decide who or what I am,” She scoffed, rolling her eyes and dropping her guard in favor of crossing her arms over her chest again. It looked a bit like she was hugging herself this time, not trying to look bigger, and I hated the part of me that wanted to go to her, hold her, make it all better. I wasn’t that person, I didn’t know how to do those things, but god damn it she made me  _ want _ to.

“Don’t you, though?” Her voice was quieter, sad, even. “I just..I want to be alone, right now. Give me at least that much, you owe me that.”

I thought about staying. Of crossing the room and fitting my mouth to hers, but my feet turned towards the door and I heard her release a deep breath. It was stupid to think we could find some kind of even ground, despite the chemistry, we were too different. Too violent. It didn’t make me want her any less, but for now the only way I’d be getting between her legs would be by force, and I didn’t want  _ that _ to be how it happened.

“Just..think about the date, please,” Where the hell was that coming from? Peter Hayes didn’t say  _ please _ like that, I wasn’t him, she’d ruined both of us, it seemed.

“Peter..just..go away.” I didn’t turn to look at her, I didn’t want to see the look on her face that matched how shattered her voice was. I’d done that, and for once, I didn’t feel proud for it. Tris didn’t return to the dorm, not while I was awake, at least. While I still had some privacy, I had to settle for the comfort of my hand, and I hated her for it, but it was still her face, her body, that pushed me over the edge. Her voice whining in my ear. That night I dreamt of bruised, pale skin, and my name on her lips.

I woke knowing I’d do anything to get back in her good graces - and that I had to talk to Molly and Drew. It wasn’t until I got a good look at the dorm that two things hit me - her bunk was still immaculately made as it had been when I’d come in that night, and her things were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm the actual worst I'm so sorry oTL 
> 
> But heeey we finally got our kiss - AND some actual dialogue between the two building towards understanding...although I guess that's one step forward and several feet back.
> 
> So for those of you who wanted to see more about the Bureau, don't worry. Things are about to get more interesting. The next chapter is going to be entirely in Peter's point of view, and we're getting very very close to finishing up this part of the series, I'm so excited to move on to the third and final installment!
> 
> As always, thank you so so much for your kind words, I hope I can keep everyone invested and happy!


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